The Trouble with Polly Brown (63 page)
“I see. So what you are really saying is that both of you are greatly influenced by what others think of you. Sounds a pretty dangerous cocktail to me,” she stated, raising a concerned eyebrow.
“Lady, what precisely do you mean?” Justin Kase innocently asked.
“Well, if you cannot dare follow your heart and do what is right due to the high risk of exposure or otherwise from offending the crowd, then clearly something is very wrong. Wouldn't you say so?”
“Yes, dear lady, but if you are trying to suggest that we should risk our reputations and in doing so choose to visit Polly in the local loony bin, then you're quite right, for we have no intention of risking our reputations,” an offended Justin Kase quickly retorted.
“Ahh. How very interesting. For reputations are such dangerously flimsy things.”
“Uhh?” Justin Kase mumbled.
“Well, allow me to explain. One minute we can be sailing high on the praises of others. Then in the wink of an eye our reputation can be forever stained or tarnished by one idle, misplaced word or by the cruel, deceptive words of another holding some pitiful grudge. It's both sad and funny that we come to place such high value on something so elusive that by the flip of a coin can so easily and readily be crushed and forever destroyed. Faithfulness, loyalty, and integrity of character are so much lower down the unspoken list of important attributes one can only hope to aspire to and thus obtain.”
“Dear lady, are you suggesting that we are all seriously wrong and therefore deluded in our beliefs and thinking?” a very heated Justin Kase demanded to know.
“Oh, young man, don't be so presumptuous, for that is not an indulgence to which I am privy or otherwise allowed to judge. Time alone will judge you, as in later years you look back over your life and come to the sad realization that there were many mistakes made that could so easily have been corrected.”
“Well, lady, I have to confess to feeling most sorry for Polly.”
“Not sorry enough to pay Polly a small visit, and not sorry enough to once and for all set a certain record straight.”
“What record?”
“Why, the record with her good friend, Will, of course! For surely you are not impervious to the fact that he still believes Polly has gone quite mad, especially with regard to her most provocative and creative story regarding Piadora.”
“Oh, that!”
“Yes, that! You know something, boys. I would like to believe that both of you are sincere, decent-minded young men, and if you knew you could put things right, well then, I like to think that you would. So, I would like to humbly suggest that the next time you bump into her friend, William, you tell him the whole truth of what happened that day on the mountain, for at the end of the day you have nothing to lose, save your shame,” she stated, giving both the boys a long and penetrating gaze.
“Shame?” an awkward and confused Justin Kase queried.
“Yes, shame. It's not exactly a popular word these days, but it certainly fits the crime.”
“Crime?” he once again queried.
“Yes, the crime of not admitting the truth when a very desperate Polly begged and pleaded with you both to confirm her story to Will. You boys should be ashamed of yourselves, for you know full well you behaved very badly that day.”
“How do you, a complete stranger, know any of this?” the now very shaken boys quickly wanted to know.
Of course, Lady Butterkist declined to answer the question.
“So you think we should go and find Will and then admit to him that we lied to save our own necks?”
“Yes, and in doing so you will indeed cleanse your hearts and minds of the guilt that you young men have been carrying around for a considerable length of time. After all, a clean conscience is a desirably healthy and most welcome asset to have, I assure you, for you can once more breathe deeply and enjoy a peaceful night's rest, free from agitation and the ghastly nightmares a disturbed conscience most surely brings.”
“Lady, I do believe you're right on target, for neither Justin Thyme nor myself sleep well these days, and up until this moment we had no idea as to why this was the case.”
“Well then, Justin, it is a good thing we bumped into each other this fair day, for today can mark the time to make amends, which, I promise, will certainly have far-reaching consequences.”
“We will put it right, we promise,” Justin Kase stated. “But I am still not sure we could face seeing her in that awful hospital.”
“Well, take each day as it comes, for there may come a time when you feel you have the courage to pay her that visit. Until then I bid you farewell, for sadly my cup is drained, and I need to go on my way.”
“Good-bye, er, Ladyâ” Justin Thyme stated, feeling most awkward, as he still had absolutely no idea by what name she answered to.
“Lady Butterkist, but please feel free to call me Ralphella, as after this pleasant and encouraging discourse I do believe we are now firm friends.” Satisfied that she had finished what she came to do, she then stood up to leave. “Also, please allow me to leave the money for you to purchase further refreshments, for I do believe your throats will surely once more feel thoroughly parched before those young ladies believe themselves to be groomed enough to finally leave the bathroom and come back to join you.”
“Yes, already they have been away a ridiculously long time,” Justin Kase glumly stated as he looked down at his watch.
“Well, that's because both young ladies still have much to privately discuss in connection with you two lads. But let me assure you now that both young girls are apt to believe that they are head over heels in love. So take it easy, boys, won't you? And I beg of you, please don't lead them down the garden path, for the tender heart of a teenage girl is indeed precariously fragile and therefore easily wounded.”
“We'll treat them right. That's a promise,” they both happily assured the lady.
“Oh, and by the way, boys, please accept this personal invitation card to come on a journey to Piadora.”
“Oh, we have already tried and failed,” Justin Kase reluctantly admitted.
“Hence the head wound,” his friend interjected as he quickly pointed to the large scar that ran the length of his friend's forehead.
“Well, maybe it's because you intended to gate-crash the party. Not such a good idea at the end of the day.”
“How on earth did you know that?” a very confused and bewildered Justin Kase asked.
“This time I am giving you an open-ended invitation,” Lady Butter-kist warmly stated as she deliberately ignored this latest question.
“Thank you, Lady Butterkist. Maybe one day in the not-too-distant future we will take you up on your very kind offer.”
“Oh, I'm sure you will,” she calmly stated as with a deep smile on her face she made her way toward the exit door of the café.
“Oh, and boys, good luck with the dating,” were her final parting words before she closed the café door to head back to her old jalopy and Giles Blenkinsopp, her devoted butler and part-time chauffeur.
“Absolutely exhilarating,” she chuckled to herself as she privately considered the success of her exciting little rendezvous at the station café.
“Lady B., the offending items have been hunted down and disposed of, and the dogs have also been exercised.”
“Wonderful.”
“Oh, and I'm delighted to report that the car is once more smelling as fresh as a daisy.”
“Splendid, Blenkinsopp. Simply splendid.”
I
T WOULD NOT
be too long before Blenkinsopp and Lady Ralphella Butterkist were driving way too fast down some of the longest and most winding country roads of picturesque Great Britain.
“Giles Blenkinsopp, I do declare this to be a most glorious day to stop and have ourselves a little picnic, so do be a dear and slow down so that we can pick a nice, pleasant spot to lay down the tartan rug and picnic basket.”
“Very well, madam.”
“Also, Piddles and Tiddles, my imperial little Shih Tzu pups, are in dire need of doing another little âwhoopsie' in the woods, so we cannot leave it too long in finding ourselves that perfect little oasis,” she firmly stated as she caressed the little heads of both young pups.
It would only be a matter of minutes before Giles looked out of the window and observed a large clearing that he believed might well keep her ladyship happy.
“Would this particular site be to your ladyship's particular liking?” he inquired.
“Absolutely perfect, so you can stop the car now, Blenkinsopp,” she beamed.
Giles brought the car to a total standstill then got out to go and open the rear door for her ladyship and her cute little dogs.
The pups immediately headed toward a little copse to do their private business, and Blenkinsopp obliged her ladyship by staggering into the middle of a poppy-filled meadow laden down with a large wicker hamper of goodies and a tartan rug draped over his shoulder.
“Wonderful, Blenkinsopp. I do believe we have a feast fit for a king.”
Once they were settled down, Giles brought out the silver flagon of tea and began pouring. “Well done, Blenkinsopp. You've remembered to bring a couple of my best bone china tea cups, for this heavenly elixir tastes most disgusting when drunk from any other alternative receptacle, don't you agree?”
“Yes, madam. Plastic is gross, pottery just about bearable, but have you seen the latest invention that they are making drinking cups from? I believe it's called polystyrene foam. I wonder, madam, are you familiar with this new technology and therefore the latest trend from which to sip your beverage?”
“Allow me to say that before today's events I remained blissfully indisposed to such man-made creations, but all that has now changed, for disgraceful as it might seem, I found myself being forced against my will to drink from such a receptacle when I ordered tea in the station buffet. However, I will now adamantly state that I will never again choose to familiarize myself with such a vulgar creation, for the end of civilization will surely be nigh before I ever again allow myself to drink wonderful tea infusions from out of those ghastly polystyrene cups.”
“Oh, madam.”
“Yes, it was all very trying to say the least.”
“Poor madam.”
“Oh no, Giles, trust me when I say that disposable, lightweight cups for tea or other equally desirous beverages will never, ever catch on.”
“Of course. Anything you say, madam. Oh, and does madam require her serviette at this present moment in time?”
“Why, thank you, Blenkinsopp. Do kindly pass it to me, and then do be a dear and sit down so we can begin our little picnic without further hesitation.”
No sooner had the faithful butler dropped to his knees when suddenly a young man stepped out of the wooded area and began to aimlessly walk, hands in his pockets, a path that was in direct line with where they had just set up for their picnic and so were resting while enjoying the simple pleasure of drinking tea.
Before Giles could point him out, Lady Butterkist immediately caught sight of him, and after quickly placing her cup down on her saucer, she beckoned for him to come and join them.
“I say there, young man, would you care to join us in having a delightful cup of divine tea?”
“Well, thank you, dear lady, but I think I will refrain from your terribly gracious offer,” he politely responded.
“Now then, young man, we will not take no for an answer. Besides, your eyes betray much sadness and regret. So don't be an insufferable spoilsport. Sit down, and allow us to pour you tea with a large dollop of sympathy, for we have both to running over, don't we, Blenkinsopp?” she merrily stated as she patted at an empty space on her tartan rug.
“Yes, madam, I do believe we have a chronic excess of both,” he wearily agreed.
The handsome boy with the deeply melancholic eyes shrugged his shoulders as if to surrender before gently falling to his knees to join them.
“I'm afraid we're clean out of bone china cups, as there were only two rather lonely souls invited to picnic on this particular expedition, but I am sure my faithful butler will hand over his cup in exchange for a more modest plastic mug, which from time to time we are forced to use.”
“Oh, please don't go to any bother on my behalf, for I am used to drinking from just about anything. Believe you me when I say that if I can drink from the deeply scarred plastic cups in the school dinner hall, then I can drink from anything.”
“Nonsense, my dear man. You will indeed sip tea from my best bone china, end of story. Speaking of which, a short time ago I just happened to find myself in the station café, as I was in dire need of some refreshment. When I finally got some service, I was horrified to discover they were no longer serving the tea in proper china cups accompanied by a saucer but rather in a most vulgar, lightweight cup that I was informed went by the name polystyrene.