The Trouble with Polly Brown (35 page)

“And if you are all good as gold, well then, tell you what? You could be in receipt of a very nice treat, such as a delicious bar of chocolate, later on this evening,” he said with a warm, endearing smile. “And maybe, yes, maybe some potato chips and fizzy soda to also look forward to.”

“Ooh, ooh! Oh, Uncle, we love you so much,” the children gasped, as many who were gathered 'round looked up at him adoringly and unanimously reached out to hug and cling to whatever part of his body they could easily reach, for without exception they were all suddenly feeling very weak and emotional.

“Thank you so very, very much, Uncle Boritz,” they tearfully whispered, their voices choked with emotion and deep appreciation as they continued to embrace and cling to him as though their very lives depended on it.

Now, with the exception of Polly and James, there was not one child that terrible night that did not feel overwhelmed with immense gratitude toward dear Uncle Boritz. No words were necessary to express this truth, as every heart and mind experienced their own individual epiphany that confirmed once and for all that dear Uncle Boritz was indeed Superman and Spider-Man all rolled into one.

Did not the whole wide world know and agree that he was, indeed, master of the universe and therefore worthy of all praise? Not only had they come through this latest horribly unpleasant event alive and in one piece, but as if this was not enough, they might even find themselves in for a little treat later that evening. Uncle Boritz was way better than Superman, the Lone Ranger, or come to think of it, any other savior of the universe!

“My little winkle pickers, with the exception of Polly, you are all now officially dismissed,” Uncle Boritz announced to the delight and relief of all present.

The children ran from the cellar yelling and screaming and shouting for joy, their young, tender hearts freed from all fear once more.

“Right then, Polly dear. The reason I've asked you to stay behind is because I think you and I need a little tête-à-tête.”

Polly shrugged her shoulders, as she did not understand what he meant.

“We, my dear, are going to have our own private little chin wag, don't you think?” he said in a most sinister tone of voice.

Chapter Fourteen

HELP ME MAKE IT THROUGH THE NIGHT

P
OLLY TRIED TO
tell herself over and over not to panic, but this was a tall order for a young, defenseless girl who had every legitimate reason to fear the worst.

Uncle Boritz waited until the last child had high-tailed it out of the dank cellar before he once more slowly closed the door, twisting the large, rusty key in the lock in a meaningfully slow, precise manner. The only people left in the tunnel were Polly and himself; oh, and Pitstop.

Polly watched on as Uncle Boritz bent down to place an ear to the keyhole of the door, as if to confirm that there were no nosy stragglers attempting to listen in. Seemingly satisfied that all the children were now back inside the castle, he turned to her and began to get right down to the heart of the matter.

“All right, Polly, let's get down to business. You can make this easy or difficult; the choice is yours. I need answers to certain things, and if I don't get them, well then, I cannot be held responsible for what might ultimately happen to you, my dear,” he said as he came right up to her face to stare directly into her eyes.

Polly blinked. She was alarmed, for at this moment in time she had absolutely no idea as to what he was referring to.

“Please, Uncle. What else have I done?” she innocently croaked.

“Oh, please don't play the ‘Ooh, what have I done?' number on me,” he said in a most unnatural high falsetto voice. “You should know by now that it will not work, as I find your ongoing stream of porkies quite, quite detestable.”

“I truly don't know what I've said that really is a lie, so I really do need you to tell me,” she stated, feeling both weak as well as exasperated.

“Well, girl, I need information,” he snarled.

“Information about what, Uncle?” was Polly's innocent reply as she tried exceptionally hard not to feel intimidated.

“Information as to where this particular ring came from,” he sneered as he proceeded to whisk her lost and most sacred ring from out of his pocket to then dangle it on a piece of string only inches away from her face.

“Ahh, my ring! My ring!” she cried in little more than a whisper, as she was now feeling very choked up with emotion.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers!” he mocked as he began swinging the ring back and forth like the pendulum on an old grandfather clock.

“Uncle Boritz, please give me back my ring, for it was given to me by someone very close to my heart,” she cried.

“Liar,” he yelled, going a deep purplish blue in the face. “Don't mess with me, girl, for you will live to regret it,” he snapped, as once again he brought his face right up to hers in his desperate bid to intimidate her. “Tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, you disgraceful little fibber,” he continued to bark.

Polly was now shaking from head to toe. She felt like a frightened, wounded animal surrounded by bloodthirsty wolves with nowhere to run and hide. It was obvious that Uncle Boritz was on the verge of erupting, and this could mean anything might happen. Yes, anything!

“Please, Uncle Boritz, I am telling you the truth. I was given the ring by Ralph, who is one of the many homeless vagrants who every now and then rings the castle doorbell asking for a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich. He has, over time, become a good friend of mine, and one day he invited me to go to tea at a place called Piadora. Oh, Uncle, it really is the most magnificent kingdom imaginable. Ralph sent me the ring, along with a letter that stated that I must wear this ring at all times if I was to have any hope of entering the kingdom,” she forlornly cried. “Uncle, I must tell you that Piadora is—”

Polly was unable to finish her sentence because she drew a deep breath to stifle the pain that came from an unexpected, sharp slap across her face.

“Bridle your rogue tongue, girl,” he viperously roared, his volatile rage becoming more prevalent by the minute. “This time you have truly crossed the line. You have precisely five minutes to come clean and tell me exactly where you acquired this ring, or mark my words, you will find yourself shackled in irons and dragged off to the gallows. Otherwise you will serve the rest of your days down in the dungeons at the Tower of London, for I can no longer tolerate your continual fibs.”

“Oh no, not the Tower of London.”

“Yes, and then you will be terribly sorry that you were ever born,” he sniffed as he drew a deep breath. “What a staggeringly ridiculous story! You are asking me to swallow a story that some penniless, smelly old vagabond would give you, of all people, a priceless ring? Well, if any of this turns out to be true, then I will surely be the first to eat my hat!” he muttered under his breath.”

Polly began to rub her burning cheek, at the same time feeling sick to the pit of her stomach. She had been completely truthful, and still he did not believe her. What more could she do?

“Well, girl, what is it to be?” he sneered. “Are we on the same page? Where and from whom did you steal this valuable ring, you intolerable little thief?”

Polly instantly lowered her head, for the pain of being accused of such wickedness was, and always had been, very unbearable. True, she should have been used to it by now, but sadly the word
thief
still shot through her fragile heart like a jagged-edged knife.

“You can spare yourself a lot of pain and suffering by simply owning up right now,” he grilled.

Polly lowered her head further still as she briefly considered telling a lie—a lie that might just get her out of this awful mess, but a lie all the same.

“I'm so sorry, Uncle, truly I am, for I don't know what else to tell you. This special ring really was given to me by a very precious friend. He is a tramp, and yes, from time to time he is a bit smelly, but he has a heart of gold. This ring that he gave me allows me to gain entry into the kingdom of Piadora,” she said, flinching as she recoiled slightly so as to prevent herself from being on the receiving end of any further hard slaps.

Despite the room being very dimly lit, Polly was aware that Uncle Boritz's breathing was becoming heavier by the minute, a very clear indication that warned of impending danger.

“All right, Polly, you can stop all ridiculous babbling, for I can clearly see that as usual I'm plainly wasting my time,” he snorted, his eyes blazing with rage. “You are, indeed, an insult to my intelligence, for you continue to talk such complete nonsensical gibberish.”

“Oh, Uncle, it's not gibberish. I promise it's the truth.”

“Hmm, sadly you leave me no other alternative than to leave you down here in the basement overnight. This way you will have plenty of time to reconsider your atrocious, pie-in-the-sky story. In the meantime, I believe there to be little hope for you, and so you leave me no choice but to place you under the care of my good friend and associate Dr. Ninkumpoop, who is, I believe, much better qualified than I in dealing with such reprobate nutcases as your good self.”

Polly remained completely silent with her head hung low as she tried to take in all that he was threatening. Sadly, even her silence seemed to provoke him.

“Are you always this belligerent and insolent? Look at me when I'm talking to you,” he snorted, showing a great deal of disgust toward her.

“Yes, sir.”

“The trouble with you, Polly Brown, is that we—by this I mean everyone in authority—have all come to a complete standstill where you are concerned, and time is clearly running out for a little weasel like you,” he stated.

Polly timidly raised her head and tried to look him directly in the eye as he continued to give her a hard dressing-down.

“However, I feel I would not be doing my duty properly if I did not solemnly warn you that at this specialized hospital they have numerous machines that, once plugged into your brain, will send high voltages of electricity throughout your body in an effort to turn you from the rebellious, recalcitrant individual that you are into a conforming and compliant model member of society.

“Sadly, I also need to add that it is a well-known fact that most people who find themselves admitted to these special asylums rarely ever get to leave,” he stated in very convincing and menacing tones.

This new piece of information sent Polly an ice-cold shudder that traveled the whole length of her spine, and although she tried her hardest to remain brave, she could not help but allow a small, pitiful whimper to escape her trembling lips.

“Hmm. Whimper as much as you like, for the pain has only just begun,” he snorted, raising his nose higher into the air as a show of his utter contempt toward her.

As Polly stood alone and afraid, she determined that as soon as she was able, she would go to her dictionary to look up some of the words that he had called her in his anger, words like
recalcitrant, impudent, unregenerate
. She had the distinct feeling that all the words meant bad things, but exactly what these long words truly meant she had little to no idea.

And so with all said and done and with Pitstop faithfully at this side, Uncle Boritz turned to climb the few steps that led up to the cellar door. He then paused for a moment by the door.

“Brrr. This cold is beginning to get to me. I can't wait to get back indoors to the warmth and a cup of Mildred's deliciously comforting hot cocoa,” he muttered. “And this will surely go down a treat with a couple of shortbread fingers to dip into my cocoa.”

“I hasten to remind you that this night will, I believe, feel like an eternity. Yes, the thermometer hanging on the wall is already displaying record low temperatures,” he warned. “So I'm sure you will agree with me that this is indeed turning out to be one of the cruelest winters of recent years. And as if that were not enough, you, Polly dearest, will have to overcome the freezing torrent of icy winds that rage like delirious, demented demons throughout this underground tunnel,” he malevolently spewed forth.