The Trouble with Polly Brown (69 page)
Meanwhile, back in Piadora Hodgekiss had summoned Mrs. O'Brien to his side, as he desired to give her an up-to-the-minute report on Ralph's progress
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“Mrs. O'Brien, I have to tell you I could hardly believe the mountain of notes filled with words of encouragement that have been piling up here over the past few days. There were so many sacks full to overflowing that it will be utterly impossible for Polly to get through them all. Having combed through them, I have just picked out the ones I consider most appropriate at this specific time of need.”
“Oh, Hodgekiss, that's wonderful, for if Polly were to see just how many of us really love and care about her, then she would instantly rise from the ashes of despair to once more become the wonderful and affectionate girl that she truly is,” she said as she picked up one of the notes to read the contents
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“Hmm, you are so right about that. In fact, she would indeed be utterly overwhelmed by the amount of love we all have for her,” he said as he reflected back on their last conversation
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“All these wonderful, touching letters make me feel so very weepy,” Mrs. O'Brien confessed as she quickly placed a handkerchief up to her eyes
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“Mrs. O'Brien, please don't upset yourself, for you have yet to see the end of this matter. I also think that Ralph should immediately be given a job in the theater, as you have more than excelled in doing a most wonderful job on him. I, for one, firmly believe that no one would even begin to suspect a thing,” he stated, giving a deep smile
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“Yes, but I have to confess that I am a more than a little shocked to hear that he has renamed my poor little imperial Shih Tzus âPiddles' and âTiddles'! What is he playing at? Oh, poor Peaches and Precious. My little darlings must surely be feeling so confused by now, bless their little cotton bed socks.”
“Mrs. O'Brien, please don't get too carried away, for I can't ever remember seeing any dog clothed in bed socks! But what has become of poor Dr. Ninkumpoop? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The poor man has really gotten himself into such a beastly jam, as he finds himself being so mischievously bossed about by Ralph.”
“Yes, Ralph is doing an amazing takeover bid,” she enthused
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“Totally inspiring! I, for one, have not laughed so much in a long time. But watching his theatrics has me a tad concerned, for he seems to be enjoying the part of Lady Ralphella Butterkist a little too much for his own good. I fear he has clearly forgotten the main purpose of this mission.”
“Trust me on this one, Hodgekiss. There is no way Ralph, or rather, Ralphella, will leave that hospital unless he has absolutely secured Polly's release, for not only has he been appointed guardian over her, but he feels strongly committed to helping her in every way that he possibly can.”
“Well, that's good to hear, and by the way, Mrs. O'Brien, I just love the butterfly lips, and I have to say that he certainly has that walk down to perfection,” Hodgekiss further stated, his smile getting wider as he continued to observe Ralph's stunningly brilliant performance
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“I daresay he'll get a large number of highly desirable cinematic awards for this one,” Mrs. O'Brien cheekily commented
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“Yes, but if that were to happen, would we ever hear the last of it?” Hodgekiss mused as he continued to admire his dear friend's outstanding performance
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“I'm afraid not,” Mrs. O'Brien speedily retorted
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Back at the hospital, Dr. Ninkumpoop was beginning to feel extremely anxious to get on with his day, and so he politely asked Lady Butter-kist the true purpose behind her very impromptu visit.
“Well, as you ask, I am fully aware that the opening of the ward is still a few days away, but as Blenkinsopp and my good self were driving around enjoying the splendid English countryside with its gloriously divine summer weather, we just happened to find ourselves in this little neck of the woods, so to speak. Dear doctor, do you know that lovely wooded patch just off Primrose Lane?”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“Well, perhaps one fine day we could have ourselves a little picnic in those woods. Now wouldn't that be a lovely treat?”
“Yes, yes,” he spluttered, scratching his chin as he secretly wished she would skip all this benignly casual conversation and just get to the point.
“Well, as soon as Blenkinsopp informed me that Hellingsbury Hospital lay just a little to the east of where we were going to lay our tartan rug down to have ourselves a little picnic, well, I made the bold decision to do a little detour and pop by in the hope that you might willingly and cheerfully give me my own very exclusive tour of your wonderful facility. Of course, if I am clearly out of order in making such a demanding request, then pray, tell me now, and we will be on our merry way long before you can say, âIs there any mustard in this custard?'” she purred, giving the doctor a sweet, lingering smile. “So, doctor, is it at all possible?”
“Oh, absolutely, Lady Butterkist. I am completely at your service, so where would you like to start?” the doctor earnestly inquired as privately he attempted to pull himself together.
Having made a tour of virtually all the wards, the doctor then politely turned to ask Lady Butterkist if she had seen enough.
“Well, Dr. Ninkumpoop, I certainly cannot leave yet, as I have still to tour the locked wards.”
“Locked wards?” he loudly queried, for suddenly he was feeling very shocked.
“Yes, doctor, the locked wards. Now don't pretend that, like Area 51, they don't exist, for I may be a little old in the tooth, and maybe I'm no longer the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I am fully aware of their existence. Please do not waste my time further by denying it.”
“Oh, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing,” he stammered.
“Well then, without further adieu, kindly do me the courtesy of escorting us up to the locked wards.”
The doctor was given little choice other than to obey her every wish.
In no time at all Lady Butterkist found herself standing at the end of young Polly's bed. She could clearly see that someone or something was lying hidden away under the bed clothing, so she knew that now was the perfect time to get the ball rolling, so to speak.
“Doctor, pray, tell me, by what name does this young hidden-away child go by?”
“Oh, her name is Polly Brown.”
“Firstly, tell me now, why is she hidden away on a locked ward? And secondly why, when most children are outside taking in the fresh air whilst scrumping apples from orchards or playing endless games of conkers, meantime this particular child is still cocooned in her bed sheets at this extraordinarily late hour of the day?”
“Dear Lady Butterkist, forgive me for saying this, but this is one of my most troubling cases, in as much asâ”
“Troubling? Now tell me straight, doctor, what has this poor young girl done that has forced you to take such drastic action as to lock her away with such old and seriously ill patients as are generally known to be on this ward?”
“Well, put plainly, according to her guardians she really is not right in the head. I have been working very hard day and night in my effort to get to the root of all her problems, for trust me when I say that she really is a very troubled soul.”
“Aren't we all?” Lady Butterkist mumbled.
“Sorry, Lady Butterkist, I didn't quite hear you,” he snorted.
“Oh really! Well, I wonder if you could see your way to allowing me to have a private little word with her?”
“Well, as long as I am in the near vicinity I suppose it would all right.”
“I said in private!”
“Hmm. That's all very well, my dear lady, but the chances are high that she will not come up from under the bedclothes, for other than mealtimes she rarely pops out from under the blankets, and it's even rarer to find her speaking with anyone. So, believe me when I say that to have any form of reasonable conversation with her may well prove very unfruitful, if not nigh impossible!”
“Really?”
“Therefore, for all these reasons, as well as that of your personal safety, I am not too happy to oblige you in your otherwise seemingly innocent request.”
“Dear doctor, this is not a request but rather a demand, for I would still very much like to try. I therefore insist that I be given a few moments alone with her.”
The doctor had little choice but to succumb to her express wish. Therefore, albeit with great reluctance, he left the room, promising to return promptly.
With the doctor now well out of earshot, Lady Butterkist ordered Blenkinsopp to be vigilant in keeping a watchful eye on the office while she attempted to sort things out with Polly.
“Blenkinsopp, do as I ask, and stand over there and keep watch. Make sure the coast is clear at all times.”
“Very well, madam.”
“Polly dearest, please do come up from under the bedclothes,” Lady Butterkist gently ordered.
She would go on to repeat her request a number of times, but still there was no movement, as a clinically depressed Polly continued to passively remain completely hidden away under the bedding.
“Polly dear, do make us all blissfully happy by arising from under the bed linen.” Still there was no movement whatsoever.
“Polly dear, you are beginning to resemble that of a very dead corpse ready to undergo the knife of the local mortician,” she loudly declared. Still nothing!
“Madam, do you not fully realize that we are getting nowhere, for trying to get Polly to cooperate is like trying to raise a pharaoh or two from his ancient tomb!”
“Giles, don't be so impatient. Give me a few more minutes, for I have something else up my sleeve that I believe may work to our advantage,” she gently rebuked, as she decided to turn the temperature up by making things a tad more personal.
“Polly dear, how are you coping since leaving Piadora to return back to that horrid, hate-filled castle? Not too good, I presume. I wonder also if you have heard from our very dear Aazi, for he too seems to be going through similar very difficult trials.”
As Lady Butterkist stood at the end of her bed, she began to see small, hopeful signs of movement under the bedclothes. This greatly encouraged her to continue on.
“Come on, sweetheart, for it is most difficult to have any form of meaningful conversation whilst you remain hidden under those heavy hospital blankets,” she sniffed as she encouragingly continued to see something stir under the bedclothes.
“Now, tell me also, Polly, how is dear, young James doing these days? I have to admit that I and others have been most concerned for him since his model airplanes and other assortment of military models were so meanly confiscated. I mean, all he did was speak up for you, and as for that most unfortunate episode which had the two of you, along with one of the other children, running away from the home, yes, that was such a ghastly affair. Poor James really did feel like a prize idiot, so stupidly forgetting to change out of his pajamas. Hmm, and PC Inkblot, well, he really was quite a sweetheart, and heâ”
Suddenly the covers were rolled back to finally reveal Polly's sad, long face lying on the pillow alongside Langdon's long trunk.
“Well, hello there, Polly. Thank you so much for finally agreeing to come out from under the bedclothes. I am also exceedingly glad to see that Langdon is still looking as clean as a whistle,” Lady Butterkist commented. “Now then, young lady, before we have a good, hearty chin-wag, Christmas has come very late for you this year, but Blenkinsopp, my very dear and devoted butler, has brought you lots of lovely goodies, such as delicious chocolate and sweet-smelling bubble bath, some nice, wooly socks, and lots more things that young girls so love. So come on, Polly, be a good dear and sit up,” she said with an air of great firmness tinged with kindness as she removed her wide-brimmed hat and, without looking, handed it over to Blenkinsopp for safekeeping.