The Trouble with Polly Brown (33 page)

Up until now he had always held family meetings in his untidy, disheveled study, so this sudden and unexpected change of venue to this dark, dank cellar would surely scare them all witless, and even before a single word or threat dared tumble from his parted lips.

“Perfectissimo!” he joyously cried as he gloriously reveled at this latest mastermind of a thought.

As he continued to conjure up the order of things to come, he decided that it would serve him well if he were to lean against the stone wall and drum his fingers hard on the wood of a coffin lid, at the same time threatening severe punishments for all unruly behavior during his absence. If any chose to ignore his warnings, well then, they would indeed pay for it with their lives! Well, maybe not with their lives, but certainly with a very unpleasant and lengthy punishment that would have them immediately wishing for their lives to end.

Finally, he would administer all promised punishment to the despicably recalcitrant Polly Brown for her disgraceful disobedience with regard to the highly traumatic ice cream episode. Once all this was successfully handled, he would dismiss all the other children, with the exception of Polly. She would be forced to stay behind and explain how this ring mysteriously came to be in her possession. If, for once, she played ball by owning up and confessing everything, then this could save him wasting a large amount of time and money on hotel bills, restaurants, and other needless and exorbitant travel expenses as Mildred and his good self traveled the length and breadth of England in the hope of getting the answers they so desperately required. He privately conceded that this break was indeed long overdue, as she hadn't left the house for seemingly many a long year. However, setting all this to one side, if he could prize or wheedle all necessary information out of Polly without having to take this leisure break, then think of all the needless expense he would be saving them both.

He felt certain that Mildred would most likely burst into tears, and in her anger she would probably attempt to knock out his front teeth, or worse still, knock him to the ground with her suitcase and then give him a few bashes round the head. But that said, he also believed that, given time, she would indeed come 'round and see reason, especially if he were to suddenly produce a lovely gift-wrapped box of assorted chocolates accompanied by a dozen red roses. “Yes, chocolates are so very, very useful when one's hand is forced to resort to consoling a hysterical and very demanding woman trapped in the most dire emotional state of distress,” he mused.

Of course, it also went without saying that if his talk turned out to be a thankless task, with Polly blatantly refusing to spill the beans despite many threats, well then, there was only one thing for it! She would spend the entire night locked in the tunnel along with his homemade coffins, and this would serve as a stark reminder of what might eventually befall her if she continued to be so, well, uncooperative.

However, if even a night of pure, unadulterated terror proved to be yet another thankless task, then sadly there was only one course of action left, and this was to take the wretched girl to see his esteemed friend and colleague, Dr. Nicholas Ninkumpoop. She would then have little choice but to undergo all medical treatments that the good doctor in his professional capacity recommended.

If he were forced into taking such drastic action, and he hoped things wouldn't come to that, well, he would use this opportunity to suggest to his fellow colleague that things were now well beyond all hope, so perhaps electroconvulsive therapy was the only serious way forward where the problematic and indefensibly arrogant Polly Brown was concerned.

He was so elated with the high level of brilliant ideas his private brainstorming had produced that in a matter of seconds irrepressible tears of joy began forming in the corners of his eyes. However, despite these unwelcome and most irritatingly inconvenient expressions of emotion, he could not help but jubilantly pat his stomach over and over as he continued to privately congratulate himself for being the intellectually superior man that God had quite rightly chosen to make him. Boritz leaned farther back on his seat, and after closing his eyes and breathing a deep sigh of self-satisfaction, he had himself a well-deserved cat nap while he waited the arrival of the children back at the castle. Pitstop finally alerted his master to the late hour by raising his head and making loud whimpering noises as he sought to stir his genius master from his fitful slumber.

And so it was that after school that unforgettable day, with all the children rounded up, they were given the order to quickly change out of their school uniforms and then follow after Uncle Boritz to an undisclosed meeting place. The children raced to get changed out of their uniforms, and it would not be too long before all the children would begin quaking with unspeakable fear as it dawned on them that they were not heading for the usual location of his study. Their panic and anguish only seemed to increase further as they headed out of the back door and down some concrete steps that led into the garden toward the underground tunnel.

It could have been a scene straight from the Pied Piper of Hamelin except for the distinct absence of singing and dancing, as the sad and heavy hearted children glumly followed both Uncle Boritz and Pitstop in single file as they trudged along a muddy trail heading toward the door of the tunnel. Uncle Boritz then spent quite some time rummaging through the mountain of keys that weighed heavily on his trouser pant belt until he finally selected what he believed to be the correct key to the lock. The children stood motionless in morbid silence, their bodies quietly quivering from cold as well as extreme fear as they watched on, feeling helpless, as Uncle Boritz struggled to open the thick, heavy, baronial door with the help of his large, rusty key.

Once it was open, he signaled for all the children to “without a fuss” follow after him in making their descent down some further steps. With all the children now inside and the heavy door then firmly shut behind him, he reached out his chubby fingers to search for the light switch. The bulb fizzled and spat as it struggled to perform its duty of lighting up the otherwise dark, dank room. Boritz winced as his eyes finally came to rest on the children all huddled together, their faces contorted by fear and confusion at all that was happening.

Some of the younger children started to shake with fear, and many began to whimper.

“Please, Uncle Boritz. Let us go back inside,” little Sophie Shrimp-button pleaded in little more than a whisper, her young body trembling with fear as she quickly clasped the first available hand. It belonged to the equally terrified little Sacha Shoesmith, who was also trembling in her boots.

Then another terrified and frail voice cried out, “Please, please let us go, Uncle,” a teary eyed Thomasina Pitesky sobbed, her voice trailing off as Bertha Banoffee placed a hand over the young child's mouth, ordering her to shush.

“Please tell us you're not going to murder us all and then store us in those long boxes, Uncle Boritz, for we promise that we really will try even harder to be good,” young, petrified Nora Nitpick whimpered as, bursting into tears, she held on to the left hand of Natalie, her older sister, as tightly as she possibly could.

“Children, children, stop all this unnecessary whining, for you really have no need whatsoever to fear,” Uncle Boritz hauntingly reassured them, as slowly and deliberately he began to muzzle Pitstop's jaw with both hands in a manner that suggested he might easily choke the life out of the dumb animal. He then calmly released his grip and walked over to where his handmade coffins were leaning against the wall. Just as he had rehearsed over and over in his mind, with a mischievously crooked smile alighting his overblown, pockmarked face, he calmly began to drum his fingernails hard against the nearest wood coffin shored up against the wall.

The meeting that day was to be considered a complete success, because all the children were made to clearly understand that any unacceptable behavior, planned now or for the future, would be met with swift, if not very severe punishment. Every bleary eye remained glued on his hands as though their terror-filled hearts beat loudly to the drum of his fingers as he deliberately and cold-heartedly drummed down hard on the wooden coffin. That dark day Boritz was sure they knew with every fiber of their being that full cooperation was imperative, for he truly meant business.

Finally satisfied that nothing more need be said, he cried, “Enough! Now then, Polly, come and stand before me, because before anyone can leave this aforesaid meeting we still have a certain, rather ugly situation that needs to be resolved. Then and only then can we vacate this cellar to leave and go about our business.”

All the children simultaneously began moaning and groaning.

“Yes, my little toasted toadies, we are sadly still required to concern ourselves with a very selfish act of rebellion that needs urgent addressing.”

Polly took in a deep breath.

“Yes, Polly Brown, you are indeed a most rare and insolent girl. How dare you deceive us all by falsely assuming that you had any right or entitlement to discontinue your chores to join the rest of us in last night's gloriously jovial celebrations?”

Polly immediately bowed her head in shame.

“Are you listening to me? You knew full well that you were on ROPE, and still you chose to completely abandon your post to surreptitiously eat ice cream sundaes as you rather sneakily decided to join in all the festivities. What do you have to say for yourself, girl?” he snarled gnashing his teeth.

Before Polly could open her mouth to answer the aforesaid charges— of which she alone was being accused—she was forced to shut up.

“Silence, you miserable miscreant! Everything you care to say will, as always, be nothing more than a tissue of lies, for we all know that you, my dear, think nothing of telling us one porky pie after another, lies that we will be expected to try our best to unravel, as you are something of a professional when it comes to fibbing and telling real porkies,” he roared. Polly had little choice other than to cease from even beginning to explain herself, although she knew that this time she had no excuse whatsoever regarding her insubordinate behavior and all else that had taken place on the previous evening. Her uncle was absolutely correct when he said that she had abandoned her duties to join in the general merriment, something she knew full well she was prohibited from doing when on ROPE. To also be included in that heinous of deeds was the charge of unlawfully helping herself to ice cream whilst neglecting to obtain the full permission of either guardian, so she knew without question that she must submit and enter a guilty plea to all the charges. She realized that in doing so she must accept any punishment he chose to mete out that day, even if it meant a public hanging!

She would have cried out there and then, “I'm utterly guilty!” if she thought it would help bring the meeting to some form of closure, thereby ending all suffering for the rest of the children who were entirely innocent of any crime whatsoever, but she knew that would never happen, as Uncle Boritz would not be the least satisfied until he finally had his full pound of flesh.

There in that dank cellar on that dark and dreary day, there could be no mercifully quick absolution.

“Kiddiewinks, allow me to enlighten all present by informing you that if this case were to be tried in a British military court, then such a preposterous act as Polly's would no doubt find her facing a severe court-martial. Children, to help clarify this little matter, the term used by the military is
going AWOL
, ‘absent without leave,' and I assure you, hand on heart, that if Polly were on trial this day and this hour, she could expect only the stiffest sentence imaginable. God's honor.”

The look on each child's face was one of sheer contempt as they drunk in every utterance that fell from their uncle's thick lips. “So tell me what to do next, my precious little peanut butter sandwiches. Sadly, as usual, I feel utterly impotent regarding this latest Polly crisis. Yes, my hands feel thoroughly tied.”

All the children immediately hung their heads low, for no one wanted to say anything that might further displease him, leaving Uncle Boritz with little choice but to continue on until they gave him a response that was to his liking and satisfaction.

“Her mischief appears to know no bounds, and so I find myself feeling sick to the pit of my stomach and at a complete loss for words. I am forced yet again to cry out, ‘What on earth should we do with her, for she is one almighty headache of a problem?'”

Finally, one of the children found the courage to reply.

“As she's such a bloomin' problem, why don't we stick 'er in a coffin and nail the lid down tight?” Cecil Bogswater helpfully suggested, giving a loud snigger. All the children quickly applauded his idea by spontaneously bursting into cheers of laughter as they loudly clapped their hands.

“Force her to eat mud pies for a whole week until all her innards rot with gangrene and mildew,” Gailey Gobbstopper snarled. “Better still, string her up.”