The Trouble with Polly Brown (23 page)

“Don't be deceived, Polly, for you'll quickly find out that, like everything else seemingly impressive in this house, this banister too is extremely wobbly. Be very careful not to lean too heavily on it.”

He might as well have been talking to himself, for Polly was lost in wonderment as she continued climbing the stairs, at the same time taking in the surroundings.

“Wow, and look at that huge crystal chandelier. It's utterly fabulous. Oh, golly gosh, it looks as though it is only hanging by a thread or two. Will, aren't you the least bit afraid that if one of the brass links gives way it will crash to the ground and be forever ruined?”

Will did not care to answer her, as he seemed much more concerned with what lay ahead. As soon as their feet touched the top landing, he directed her to follow him down a very dimly lit corridor before coming to a halt outside a closed door.

With his ear close up to the door, Will timidly gave the door a gentle knock.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in,” a very aggressive and seemingly nasty voice shouted out from behind the other side of the closed door. Polly noticed that Will's hand was trembling slightly as he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. She then cautiously followed Will into the room. Once again, the room was in total darkness, and it felt distinctly cold, that is, until Will went over to the window and opened some large shutters. With the shutters now pulled to one side, the cold air quickly dispersed, as the powerful sun was given its first permission of the day to generously flood the room with its warmth, immediately eliminating the former chilly and most hostile atmosphere.

Polly looked over toward the big, old oak bed that dominated the room before taking a long, hard look at its angry occupant.

“Hi. You must be Edmund,” Polly said as she breezed up to the bed and stuck out a hand for him to shake. “And before you ask, I'm Polly, Polly Brown to be precise,” she stated in her friendly but informative manner as she continued to hold out her hand in her bid to be warm.

The surly young man did not move a muscle in response to her friendly, outgoing gesture.

“Sorry, Polly, but he's in too much pain to move, so please don't be too offended.”

Polly shot Will one of her “It's too late, for I'm already offended” looks, which had Will quickly covering up for his brother's sad and offensive behavior.

“Look, Polly. If, like Edmund, you'd broken just about every bone in your body, you might well struggle to give a handshake. He's in so much pain, and I'm sure you must realize that sickness makes most of us exceedingly grumpy,” Will said as he went to great pains to ease the increasingly chilly atmosphere that had now turned into a very awkward silence.

Polly withdrew her hand, but despite Will's excuses, she still considered his brother to be a very rude if not obnoxious person, for she had made the rather clever observation that neither his mouth nor his face was bandaged up. Well then, there was nothing preventing him from giving a gentle and sincerely polite greeting.

“Did you remember my painkillers?” he sourly growled in Will's direction.

“Yes, I brought them yesterday. See, they are right here beside your book on the bedside locker. Did you not see them? Here, allow me to fetch you a glass of water, and then you can take some with your pills, as well as quench your thirst,” Will tried to helpfully suggest.

“Yes, get me some water, and while you're at it, I've had nothing to eat all day, so run downstairs and make me a toasted sandwich. In fact, what I really fancy is a buck rabbit, so run along and make me something nice,” he petulantly demanded. “And then I really need my pillows plumping up. Better still, I need to swap mine with yours. I'm certain yours are feather filled and therefore more comfortable than these old ones. Oh, and did you remember to buy the meat pie? Otherwise you'd better get back down to the village before the shop shuts,” he said in a smoldering tone of voice.

Polly, who was quietly listening in, quite rightly thought Edmund was a very rude and offensive young man, for she had been painfully aware that there had not been one single “please” among his many requests, nor for that matter one measly “thank you.” If it were left to her, she would refuse to obey a single order; well, at least until he showed a more gracious side to what otherwise seemed like very miserable and utterly deplorable behavior.

“Will, what an utterly cantankerous old sourpuss he is,” Polly commented as she went back down to the kitchen to help him make his brother a buck rabbit.

Will remained silent concerning his brother's very sad and most troubling behavior.

“Tell me, Will, what exactly is a buck rabbit? Surely you don't intend to kill a baby rabbit and put him under the toaster just to satisfy your mean old brother, do you?” she said, feeling suitably horrified.

“Oh, Polly. There you go again. Buck rabbit has nothing whatsoever to do with rabbits.”

“Well, if that's so, why then is it called buck rabbit?” she quizzed.

“Honestly, Polly, I have no idea, for it's simply cheese on toast, topped off with a poached egg. Trust me when I say it tastes even better if you add a smidgeon of English
moutard
.”

Polly screwed up her nose. “
Moutard
?”

“Oops, sorry. That's French for
mustard
, of course. It's important that you put the thinnest scraping of English mustard on the toast, for this draws out the full flavor out of the cheese as it melts. You then pile on the grated cheese before popping it under a hot grill. You then leave it under the grill until the cheese sizzles and becomes a lovely golden brown. Add a lightly poached egg on top, and voila! You have a buck rabbit. I promise you, it tastes utterly scrumptious. And you can also make Welsh rabbit; this is melted cheese on toast without the—”

“Rabbit,” Polly quickly interjected.

“No, silly. Without the poached egg. Don't ask me why such dishes have such unusual names. Call it ‘the British way,' if you will.”

“I know what you mean,” said Polly, breaking into a smile. “I mean, who ever thought to call a lusciously light sponge pudding filled with juicy sultanas ‘spotted dick'?”

“Exactly, Polly. It would appear that the English like weird and wonderful names for most things that are decidedly yummy.”

“Will, I agree with you on just about everything, but tell me truthfully, has your brother always been such a grouchy old sourpuss?” Polly asked, trying to revert back to the subject of his brother and his extremely offensive behavior.

“Truthfully, no,” Will was swift to respond. “Actually, he's got much worse over the years,” he admitted, giving a heavy sigh that inadequately expressed just how concerned he truly felt for Edmund. “I don't think he ever recovered from Father leaving home. I think he took it badly, as he was the one walking up the drive at the time Dad left. As the car drove by, he realized that the occupant of the car was Dad, and he never even stopped to say his final good-byes or give as much as a small wave. That was the last time he, or I, for that matter, saw our father,” he wearily sighed as he placed two thick slices of whole-grain bread under the grill to toast.

“Oh, gosh. How awful,” were the only comments that spilled from her lips as she listened most intently to Will telling the story.

“As soon as Edmund was eighteen, he joined the army, mainly because he wanted to get out of here. I think he found everything about home life much too painful. Well, he was doing really well, that is, until one day during a military exercise he was terribly injured.” Will went uncomfortably silent.

“Go on, Will. Tell me more,” Polly urged as she spread butter on the warm toast before piling it high with a mountain of shredded cheese.

“Polly, wait a second. Have you put the
moutard
on the toast?”

Polly pulled a long face.

“Mustard, Polly. Here, catch.”

Polly was very thankful, as well as relieved, to catch the mustard pot and made a mental note to tell Will as soon as it seemed right that she had an ongoing eye problem, so throwing things her way was, at the end of the day, pretty inadvisable!

“Well caught, Polly, but you will probably find everything I tell you from this moment in time very hard to believe.”

“Try me,” was Polly's simple reply as she turned the toast upside down to allow the cheese to drop off. This way she could add some mustard before placing the cheese back on the toast.

“Edmund was on a regular parachuting exercise. Everything was going to plan. He opened his parachute at the right time, but sadly, he bungled up, for he did not land in the manner he was trained. Despite being in agonizing pain, he got up and began the long hike back to base. It was not too long before he realized something was very wrong. For one thing, he could hardly breathe.”

Polly let out a loud gasp as she stood by the cooker and slipped the metal grill pan that held the cheese on toast under the grill. “My goodness, this is becoming one of the worst stories I've ever heard,” she exclaimed as she placed some water in a special pan, her full intention being to wait until the water boiled and to then poach an egg. Polly found herself feeling thoroughly repentant concerning all the ill feeling she had been experiencing toward Edmund.

“Well, my brother told his commanding officer that something was very wrong, but his pleas to rest went ignored, for he was ordered to carry on walking. Edmund struggled to walk for over eighteen miles, and all that time he was in the most hideous, excruciating pain. When he arrived back at base, he passed out and was immediately taken to hospital. It was only then that the full impact of his injuries was made known. Yes, Polly he had broken virtually every single bone in his body. In a procedure to try and repair some of the fractures, he became paralyzed from the waist down, and he can no longer walk.”

“You couldn't see it, Polly, but he's still swathed in bandages from the chest down,” Will went on to inform her. “And I guess he feels very bitter and frustrated that such a thing should happen to him. He was such an athlete before this. He lived and breathed sports, and now he feels his life is well and truly over. This is why he is so very hurt and bitter.”

“My goodness, how simply dreadful,” Polly gasped, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by compassion on Edmund's behalf.

“Yes, he has been confined to his bed for nine long months, and I guess it's all taken a terrible toll on him.”

“Oh, Will. I feel so sad for him. Is there anything I can do to make things easier for him?” she asked out of deep concern as she watched Will crack an egg into a special tray before placing it over the pan of boiling water.

“I don't think so, Polly. Goodness knows I have tried my best to be patient with him, so I guess he still needs time alone to work things out for himself. Oh my goodness! Quick, Polly! Remove the toast from under the grill, for the cheese has just caught fire!”

“Oops!” said Polly as she quickly grabbed hold of a kitchen towel and hurriedly pulled the rack down from the grill, throwing the cloth over the toast to put out the small flame. Seconds later she quickly whipped the cloth away to take a peek at what remained beneath it. “It's a bit burnt at the edges, but otherwise it looks fine,” she over-optimistically stated.

Will made his way over to Polly to take a good look.

“Hmm. Well, I don't know if it will do, for Edmund has become very fussy these days, and he may get very upset if we place this burnt sacrificial offering in front of him.”

“Really, Will? I dare to think otherwise, for I'm sure if he's as hungry as he says he is, then he will be fine with it. Besides, if we quickly scrape off all the burnt bits, he will never know any different,” Polly confidently stated as she bent down and began scrutinizing the toast from every angle.

“You know, Polly, in my opinion it may be best to start all over again, yes, make it from scratch,” Will stated, giving her a quick despairing look as he stood over the sorry-looking buck rabbit weighing up all his limited options. “Yes, we either risk all by just placing the egg on top, which will indeed hide some of the burnt bits, and then leave his room quickly without mentioning that it's a bit singed at the edges, or we start from scratch and once more face his wrath for having taken such a long time. Polly, which is it to be?”

“Let's just take it up to him and see,” Polly very brightly suggested. “If it turns out that he doesn't want it, well then, I'd be more than happy to polish it off,” she said.

Will turned around to take the poached egg out of the pan and slip it onto the cheese on toast. “Oh my goodness, I too have failed in my duty, for this egg is meant to be runny, not solid as a rock and frazzled at the edges,” he lamented, as against his better judgment he then dropped it on top of the burnt cheese on toast to head up the stairs.

“Will, did you not see that the egg almost bounced off the plate?” Polly announced with a grimace.

“Oh, well. Let's get it over with,” Will rather wistfully stated as he encouraged Polly to go ahead of him and open the door to let him through.

As it happened, Will turned out to be horribly correct.

“This poor cheese on toast was obviously hung, drawn, and quartered before being cremated,” his brother yelled as he rather contemptuously held up the rubbery egg between his fingers to peer down at the slightly blackened cheese on toast, his furrowed brow furiously twitching with rage.

“I'm so sorry, Edmund. We honestly tried our best. We will go back down to the kitchen and start again,” a remorseful Will hurriedly suggested in his desperate bid to put things right.

“Forget it! I will hang on until suppertime. But if that too gets positively incinerated, you're very life is then in jeopardy, dear brother. Do you hear me? I swear I will make it my sole objective to make your life as miserable as can be. Now get out of here, you absolute cretin. Yes, both of you. Yes, get out,” he yelled. Then out of pure frustration, he threw a glass in their direction. Luckily the glass missed them, albeit by a few inches, as it smashed into the door. Polly instantly fell to her knees and began to pick up the large and dangerously sharp shards of glass that now littered the floor.