The Trouble with Polly Brown (82 page)

“Who does she think she is, bloomin' Lady Muck from O'Dirt Castle,” she quietly but angrily fumed. As she walked away, she heard the lady calling after her, so she put on a bright face before turning 'round to head back to her table.

“Lady Butterkist, I believe you called?”

“Mrs. Scumberry, before you leave again and while I think of it, a good friend of mine has baked a rather large number of very delicious appletude, I mean, apple pies, and she was most insistent that all the children be given the opportunity to try a little piece. I would like to submit the idea of introducing myself to the children and allowing them a taste of this fine apple pie. Naturally, this would all take place after the show.”

“Well, if I'm to be honest, I'm not too sure about that. Most of the children very quickly become undisciplined, and at any given opportunity they are liable to become disgracefully greedy. So perhaps you could allow me to store the pies for another, more suitable occasion.”

“Mildred—may I call you Mildred?”

“Oh, please do, Lady Butterkist.”

“Well, Mildred, these apple pies have been specially baked with the children in mind. I am sure that if we were to confine each child to just a small slither of the pie, I don't think it could do them too much harm. So what do you say?”

Mildred, in trembling high-pitched tones, responded, as she unhappily found herself yet again being forced to comply with the good lady's perfectly unreasonable request.

“Well then, Mildred, that's settled. Now then, Polly, do please come and take a seat betwixt Lucinda and myself while we wait for that little slowcoach Giles to appear. There's a dear,” she said, gently patting the chair to indicate that this was the particular chair she wished Polly to park herself down on.

“Oh, and Mildred dear, one small but final request.”

“Yes, Lady Butterkist. What more can I do for you?” Mildred asked, trying with all her might to restrain herself.

“Well, I would be most appreciative if you could get me a small bowl of water for little Tiddles, for it is certain that by the time she arrives here she will undoubtedly be in dire need of liquid refreshment.”

“I will see to it. And is there anything else that her ladyship could possibly require before I leave to serve all my other equally hungry and thirsty guests?” Mildred asked through gritted teeth.

“No, Mildred dear, but thank you for asking. I think that will be all, at least for the present.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

T
HE TEA PARTY
was truly superb. Mildred had gone to much trouble to make sure that only the finest delicacies were served. The baked ham and asparagus quiche was mouthwateringly decadent, and the scones and preserves were utterly outstanding. The champagne sorbet reached new heights in terms of tasting simply divine, and the melt-in-the-mouth Victoria sponge cake had all the guests in pure ecstasy, for it was indeed the lightest and fluffiest cake they had demolished in many a year.

And to top it all, Lady Butterkist watched on with both astonishment and amusement as a subservient, gushing Boritz willingly rushed from table to table refilling empty tea cups with more English breakfast tea than most of the old dears could possibly handle. All too soon there was a seriously long line of impatient old folks holding on as best they could as they waited in desperation for the little room to once more become available.

“Lady Butterkist, was my homemade Victoria sponge cake to your liking? For I'll have you know that even the raspberry jam filling was made by my own fair hands,” Mildred gushed. “Yes, the raspberries came straight from our private garden and were handpicked by myself,” Mildred informed Lady Butterkist, as ingratiating herself further she without asking went on to pour more tea into the good lady's half-drained teacup.

Lady Butterkist quickly placed her hand over the cup. “Oh, my dear Mildred, sadly I must refuse all further refreshments, for as I have not been blessed with the retentive capabilities of a desert camel, I fear if I were to drink any more tea, it would indeed be most unwise of me.”

“I'm so sorry, milady. It was indeed most presumptuous on my part not to ask before I moved to refill your teacup. But please tell me, has everything else been to your ladyship's complete satisfaction?”

“Oh, Mildred, how sweet of you to ask, for I have to admit that as soon as that heavenly sponge cake came directly in contact with the sensors on my tongue, I could clearly hear the sound of angels singing the “Hallelujah Chorus” from
Handel's Messiah
, for in a nutshell it was all superbly divine. Yes, it was indeed utterly spondelicious,” she said, closing her eyes to reflect on all she had eaten as she continued on with her most charitable appraisal.

“Thank you so much, Lady Butterkist. You are so very kind,” Mildred delightedly gasped.

Giles, who had finally turned up halfway through the tea, quickly turned to whisper in her ladyship's free ear. “Madam, forgive me for mentioning this, but put bluntly, I believe
spondelicious
not to be a genuine word.”

“Well, Giles, I beg to differ, but at the end of the day, what does it matter? Mildred is so full of herself, she has failed to even notice. Now then, Polly dear, have you eaten your fill?”

“Yes, in fact, if I'm honest, I'm feeling more than a little bloated,” Polly dared admit.

“Then, dearest, perhaps it would be considered wise if you were to stop eating and go and get yourself ready for the upcoming show.”

A very nervous and unsure Polly got up from her seat, and after excusing herself, she quickly disappeared from the hall. Lady Butter-kist paused for a few moments, and when she thought no one was looking, she picked up a few of her shopping bags and then discreetly got up from her seat to follow after Polly, her main intention being to see firsthand how Polly's arrival back at the castle would affect all the other children.

She felt like a stalker as she trailed behind the young girl, but all too soon it became apparent as to why Polly was as fearful as she was.

“Hey, everybody. Guess what? The fruit- and nutcase is back from the funny farm,” Gailey Gobbstopper shouted.

“Yeah, Fester, how was life for yer in the loony bin?” Toby Trotter snarled. “Treat yer well in the madhouse, did they?”

Polly remained as silent as a lamb as she quietly walked over to the dressing-up chest in the hope of finding an unclaimed yet suitable dressing-up outfit left that she could wear. However, as she walked past Gailey, their eyes momentarily locked.

“Hey, are you lookin' at me or chewin' bricks? Either way you'll lose yer teeth,” Gailey menacingly threatened. “Yeah, look at me again, and I'll punch yer lights out.”

Polly flinched and dropped her head, as she expected to be hit or punched by Gailey as she walked past.

“Yeah, Loopy Lou, as you can see, we did yer proud by saving the very best for you,” Toby Trotter sneered.

“Yeah, there's a bright green dunce cap, a really grotty-looking banana costume, oh, and a rather drab rat's costume that, just like you, is falling apart at the seams. So take yer pick, Polygraph,” Gailey viperously sneered.

Polly swallowed hard before biting down on her lip as she tried to prevent herself from retorting, for despite feeling horribly hurt and intimidated by their terribly cruel and unfair goading, she had no wish whatsoever to provoke her tormentors into taking things further. With her head hung low, she dropped to her knees beside the trunk and then halfheartedly began to rummage through the chest in order to see for herself what, if anything, was left of the costumes that might be considered suitable enough for her to wear.

“Cat got a hold of yer tongue, eh, Fester?” Gailey continued to taunt.

“Yeah, spaz, are yer listenin'?” Toby Trotter snorted as he sidled up to her and gave her a quick thump.

“Yeah, Fester, they told us you had to be strung up in chains in the madhouse 'cos you went so crazy,” Gailey continued to provoke. “Although heaven knows and everyone else on Planet Earth knows that madness and mayhem runs in yer bloomin' family. Yer dad was off his rocker, as well as yer mum, who according to official records was just as bonkers. And as for Thomas, well, we all know that he was a right lunatic. So it all goes to show that madness and maladies run in your genes, eh, Fester?” she cried as she reached over to give her a hard jab in the arm.

“Yeah, and just 'cos you were allowed to eat cream cakes and hobnob with that snootily posh lady don't mean we now have to bow down and crawl to yer,” Toby Trotter sneered.

“Yeah, and we've all just been told that today you are gonna sing that pathetic song you've always sung at the old folks' party. What a joke that will be!” Tommy Pulleyblank sniggered.

“Yes, but I am only singing it because Aunt Mildred has specifically requested that I sing it today,” a very subdued Polly reluctantly replied.

“Yeah, right. Pull the other leg; it's got bells on it!” Toby Totter menacingly sneered.

“Please, leave me alone, I beg you, for I'm telling the truth. I really don't want to sing in this stupid concert, but I have no choice because Aunt Mildred has requested that not only do I sing, but she specifically wants me to sing this song.”

“Oh, do us a big favor; go jump in the lake and drown yourself, for I don't believe Aunt Mildred would ever ask you to sing anything, you miserable loser,” Gailey Gobbstopper contemptuously spat.

“Yeah, take a long walk off a short plank, you spaz,” one of the other older boys hatefully snorted.

“'Ere, everybody gather 'round, 'cos loathsome Fester here is gonna sing her stupid favorite song, ‘I'm All Alone in This World,” Gailey loudly announced.

“Aw, now ain't that a shame?” Tommy Pulleyblank shouted out as he rubbed his eyes as he took on the pretense of crying.

“Boo hoo hoo, Fester's in a stew. She's singing out loud to please the stinkin' crowd, but nobody anywhere cares a jolly hoot,” Gailey Gobbstopper started to chant, trying to provoke a wild response from Polly.

All the children quickly gathered 'round, and in no time at all they were all painfully howling the tune of “I'm All Alone in this World” like a pack of desperately injured wolf cubs crying out for their mother to urgently attend them.

“Goodness gracious me, how grotesque!” a horrified Lady Butterkist mumbled. “If they are going to make this sort of atrocious noise, at the very least they should be standing in front of the Wailing Wall,” she muttered as she tried hard to hide her outrage.

Before she could mutter another word, from out of nowhere Boritz and Pitstop appeared on the scene. Of course, unbeknown to him or the children, a now very shaken Lady Butterkist remained hidden from view, feeling thoroughly saddened as well as disgusted by all she was witnessing.

“Children, children, what on earth do you think you are you doing? That terrible and most penetrating noise could surely raise even the morbidly dead from their tombs. I assure you now with great authority that none of you have any hope of making it into the Westminster Cathedral Choir if you continue howling like a bunch of stray cats whose tails got stuck in a mangle,” he chortled.