The Trouble with Polly Brown (42 page)

“No, wait! I can't let you go alone.”

“I'm not on my own. I've already told you that Toby is coming with me. He knows his school report is so very bad that when Uncle gets to read it, he will almost certainly be on ROPE for the next few months, so he's not going to hang around long enough for him to find out. He's packed a bag, and he's waiting in his room for me to give him the signal to go.”

“No, no, no. You are both far too young to run away, and at this ridiculously late hour. Please don't go,” she begged as she attempted to grab hold of his arm in a final, desperate bid to make him see reason.

James pushed her away and then began to whistle, his signal to Toby that the time to leave had come. Seconds later and Toby was standing at the top of the stairs, ready and willing to leave.

“James, wait one minute, and I'll come with you,” she anxiously cried. “I've already lost one brother, and I'm not about to lose another.”

“Oh, you never told me she was comin'. That changes things. I ain't going nowhere if she's comin too,” Toby groaned, dropping his bag to the floor as if to reemphasize his position on the matter.

“No, she's definitely not coming with us,” James retorted. “Sorry, Polly. Two's company; three's a crowd. Just go to bed. We'll be fine. You'll see.”

Polly realized that it was useless, for all her anxious pleas fell on deaf ears, so she continued to walk up the stairs, feeling very concerned for both boys. Before she reached the top stair she heard the front door click, and she turned around to see that both boys had gone.

Polly turned on the bathroom light and proceeded toward the basin to wash her face and clean her teeth. She caught a sudden glimpse of her wearied, troubled features in the mirror, and she felt she looked more like fifty in years rather than twelve going on thirteen.

As she stood silent at the basin with toothbrush in hand, her conscience began to make very loud noises as it warned of the perils both boys could face if they remained alone on the streets. She instantly felt awful as she agonized over whether she should go and report to her guardians that the boys had run away. As she considered her very limited options, she knew she could not face her brother hating her even more for splitting on them, so with great reluctance she decided against her better judgment that under no circumstances could she squeal on them.

With all this in mind, she also knew in her heart that she could not go to bed knowing both boys were not safely tucked up in their beds. She would never be able to live with herself if anything terrible or unforeseen were to happen to either of them. Thinking out loud, she suddenly surprised herself by saying, “Whether they like it or not, I am going with them.” She threw her toothbrush back into the tooth mug and then turned to run down the stairs and out into the darkness, her only objective now being to find and join the boys.

Luckily, the boys hadn't gotten too far before she caught up with them. They were understandably pretty furious with her, but they had little choice other than to allow her to stay.

They had been walking for about an hour and were now feeling tired when Toby Trotter came up with what appeared to be a good idea to their tired legs. “I'm going to stick out my hand and hitchhike until someone stops and offers us a lift,” Toby suddenly announced.

“Oh, no. Toby, listen to me. You must not do such a thing! Are you crazy? Think of the danger you are putting us into!”

“Aw, shut up, Polly. I'm tired of your fateful predictions. No one is going to harm us. You're such a pathetic scaredy-cat. Go home now if you're so afraid,” he snorted.

“Yes, Toby, I am afraid, and so should you be, because many terrible things have happened to children who accepted lifts from perfect strangers.”

“Yeah, right,” he snarled back at her.

“Look, remember Abbey Shipton?”

“So?”

“Well, don't you remember the long months the police combed the woods before they found her?”

“Yeah, but just 'cos that happened to her doesn't mean it will happen to us, does it?”

“Toby, wake up. Are you really listening to me? Taking a lift from someone you've never met before is like playing Russian roulette, so please put your hand back down by your side, I beg—”

Before Polly had time to finish her sentence, a dark-colored car pulled off the road. “Where are you youngsters headed for?” a friendly voice called out.

“We wish to get to London,” Toby hollered.

“Well, don't just stand there catching flies. Hop in,” the kindly male voice shouted back.

Polly was left with little choice but to follow the boys into the back of the stranger's car. She could only pray that, unlike Abbey, they would come out of this unscathed to go on and make it to their destination.

As they made themselves comfortable in the back of the car, the gentleman driving turned to make his acquaintance. “Hi there. My name's Ern, and this 'ere is my luverly missus, Hannah. So what finds you young ones traveling at such a late hour?” the kindly man with the silver hair and matching silver mustache inquired.

Polly immediately spoke up. “Well, sir. We are on our way to London to find Toby's mother.”

“Oh, did she invite you to come and stay then?”

“Well, not exactly. It's just that—”

Suddenly Polly felt her leg stinging, as Toby had just given her a very hard pinch, his private way of telling her to shut up. As Polly rubbed her leg and continued to engage in light conversation, she suddenly turned her head to one side to avoid being blinded by the flash of light coming from the beam of a car traveling in the opposite direction. As she turned her head to one side, she suddenly found herself looking over at James, and she was immediately shocked to realize that, unlike Toby or herself, he had well and truly given the game away!

Polly prodded James before discreetly pointing to his feet. Unbelievable as it may seem, James was sitting on the backseat still dressed in his nightclothes, his threadbare dressing gown wrapped around him and slippers on both feet. Oh, and a big, beaming smile on his face.

Polly inwardly groaned. She had been so taken up with trying to persuade her brother not to run away that she had given little thought to his attire. She knew in that desperate moment in time that the game was well and truly up!

Polly continued to ramble on in the forlorn hope that this nice elderly couple might well be visually impaired and that this impediment might hopefully prevent them from being aware of this acutely embarrassing situation, but deep inside she thought it highly unlikely that both parties would be on the road in the middle of a dark night and without their prescription glasses. Why, then, had neither party made any mention of it?

All too soon the gentleman in the driver's seat announced he would have to drop them off at the next convenient place, as they needed to head off in another direction. Polly felt sad but relieved. She also wondered what she was going to do concerning her younger brother, for she didn't believe they could continue on with James still dressed in his nightwear. Someone, somewhere was bound to start asking questions.

After waving their good-byes to the kindly couple, Polly turned to James to address their immediate problem.

“James, what on earth were you thinking of, you daft idiot? You should at least have got dressed.”

“Yes, you stupid plonker! I wish I'd never agreed to come away with such a bloomin' couple of misfits. What are we going to do now?” Toby cried.

James put on an idiotic-looking face and shrugged his shoulders as he confessed he had absolutely no idea.

“Beats me. I know I've messed up, but perhaps—”

“Yes, you have, you stupid nitwit,” Toby blazed.

They were still involved in a heated discussion when Polly became aware of two, no, three police cars heading in their direction.

“Look, guys. Maybe they are not after us, so keep your cool. Just continue to walk on as though you haven't noticed them,” Polly sternly ordered both boys.

Sadly for Polly, the police cars pulled up with their lights flashing wildly and their sirens making that terrorizing, horribly unfriendly high-pitched noise that instantly gets your heart beating at twice its normal speed. Two officers got out of the first car, and after dramatically slamming their doors, they began to approach them.

“Excuse me, miss, but perhaps you would like to explain to us officers of the law as to why three young children, one dressed in his pajamas, are out walking in the middle of the night?”

Polly bowed her head in shame.

“Taking in the full moon, are we? Unless, of course, you're all on your way to a fancy dress party, in which case only the little fellow in his slippers and pajamas has got it right, and the other two of you look way too normal. Wouldn't you agree, PC Inkblot?”

The extremely tall officer standing next to him simply nodded his head in agreement, as with a grin on his face he pulled out his special notepad with the view to taking down an accurate account of all conversations that would now surely take place.

Quick-thinking Toby was the first to speak. “Well, as you asked us, officer, we were actually on our way home from a pajama party,” he insisted.

“Just on their way home from a pajama party, with only one of the suspects actually wearing his pajamas…” PC Inkblot repeated aloud while furiously scribbling in his notebook. “Hmm. Very suspicious, if you ask me,” he murmured.

“I see, young sir, and at what specific address might this party have taken place?”

“None of yer business,” Toby curtly replied.

“And what might your name be?” the officious detective sniffed.

“Toby. Toby Neville Trotter. TNT to all my friends.”

“Hmm. TNT. Now, I believe that to be very dangerous stuff,” PC Inkblot wrote down in the comments column of his official notepad. “This night might not end very well at all with a name like that,” he muttered.

“Yeah, and don't we have a bloomin' right to remain silent?” James interjected.

“Aw, shut up, James, you pinhead. He's still speakin' to me,” Toby growled.

“Toby, young man. Listen to me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the stern officer known to all as Detective Constable Chickpea snarled.

“Easy or hard way; choice is all theirs,” PC Inkblot most dutifully continued to record. “Yes, I do believe it's make-your-mind-up time.”

“Yeah, we don't 'ave to say nufink if we don't want to, 'cos we ain't done nothing wrong yet,” Toby rather impudently suggested.

“Well, young sir, we dare to disagree with you, because most pajama parties indisputably have the occupants of those pajamas sleeping under mounds of blankets in a warm bed, at least, until the cock cares to stretch his legs and crow. Am I correct in my thinking, young Inkblot?” Chickpea turned to ask his spotty, willowy fellow officer.

“Yes, DC Chickpea. You are, as usual, right on.”

“And as this beat is on my side of the town, then I am entitled to ask these and any other choice questions that I care to. Is that also right on, PC Inkblot?”

“Yes, sir. You are indeed entitled to ask these here young people anything you care to. And I might use this here occasion to add that anything they do say can and will be taken down as material evidence,” PC Inkblot rattled off in a most superior, if not somewhat officious manner as he continued to write down verbatim all that passed between them.

“Then am I to presume that these youngsters did not stay at the party because the breakfast was, sadly, not too their liking?”

“No, sir. I would imagine the breakfast was, as you suggest, obviously not to their liking. Maybe they didn't like the sausage and bacon and would have preferred something a bit more simple, like yogurt with honey and a nice bit of fresh fruit. I know my mum suffers with digestive problems, so she doesn't like a heavy breakfast and…”

“Pay attention, Inkblot! I was not asking you for your thoughts on this matter or your dotty mum's personal breakfast preferences, you insufferable excuse for an officer of the law,” the red-haired, bloated faced detective yelled directly into his face.

PC Inkblot stood to attention looking very shamefaced at being shouted at, and in such an unexpectedly nasty and unpleasant manner.

The DC then turned on his heels to once more growl down at the terrified children.

“How rude!” PC Inkblot muttered under his breath. “Suit yourself, Chickpea, for my mum has always loved my personal thoughts and writings. Hmm. She says I've got real talent when it comes to giving heart to a real-life story,” Polly overheard him quietly mutter.

DC Chickpea, with hands behind his back, then swiveled 'round once more to address the young constable.

“Inkblot, understand me when I say that I was merely trying to pick your brains for some sort of rational explanation as to why these youngsters are not safely tucked up in a warm bed. Against all odds, I was hoping for some light to be shed that might explain something of why they are out on the streets at this dangerous hour of the night. I repeat, I was therefore not expecting you to come up with some alternative but satisfying nutritional option for the breakfast menu. Are we clear on this one?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Inkblot sniffed as he adjusted his hard hat and tried to look as suitably concerned as he was able. After all, this was indeed a most serious matter. “No personal opinions or comments required by my good self concerning helpful, fitness-conscious breakfast suggestions,” the young and fresh faced PC then scribbled down on his thick notepad.

Polly chose this opportunity to step forward, as she had come to the firm conclusion that to tell the truth was the best thing to do in this difficult situation. She really didn't want the crisis to flare up into a worst-case scenario, and it seemed to be rapidly heading in that direction.