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Authors: Tricia Bennett

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The Trouble with Polly Brown (56 page)

BOOK: The Trouble with Polly Brown
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“Never a truer word spoken in jest, Nick, for I do have to take the odd bit of time off, as working with such problematic, dysfunctional children is, to say the least, very, very exhausting.”

“Hmm. Perhaps it is.”

“So how about it, old boy? Will you send us an invite to attend the grand occasion?” Boritz grinned as he now gave the doctor a number of equally hearty slaps on the back as if to fully seal the gentleman's agreement.

“Yes, of course, old chap. Count yourself in,” was the doctor's friendly and swift response to Boritz's very direct request.

Much to Polly's appreciation, the conversation eventually drew to a natural close. After placing his cup and saucer to one side, Dr. Ninkumpoop suggested that it was high time to take “the girl” up to the ward.

Boritz used this latest announcement to remind the good doctor that he had agreed to a meeting with them. “Nick, old boy, don't forget that we made an appointment with your secretary, for we felt the urgent need to have a quiet word in your ear before we leave to go home, or had you forgotten?”

The absent-minded doctor once more looked more than a trifle embarrassed that he had, as they so rightly suggested, quite forgotten he had given his agreement for this meeting to take place. Therefore, he called for one of his nurses to take Polly and her sorry-looking, battered suitcase up to the ward. Polly stood up to leave with another haggardly, mature-looking nurse, and the doctor assured her that he would come up shortly to make sure she was comfortably settled in.

As Polly was about to leave the room, she went over to where Aunt Mildred still sat nervously holding on to her almost-drained teacup to give her one last lingering hug and maybe a quick kiss good-bye.

Mildred visibly stiffened to something of a rigid waxwork mannequin. She then quickly turned her head to one side to fend off the kiss that Polly intended to place on her right cheek. Squirming in her seat, Mildred finally placed her cup down and then suddenly lashed out, “Enough of this ridiculous nonsense, child. Just say your good-byes and be gone with you,” she cried.

On being repelled in a manner not too dissimilar to that of some offensively vicious flesh-biting mosquito, Polly hurriedly removed her arms from around her aunt's neck. She momentarily hesitated, then moved away to stand in the center of the waiting area, all the while wondering whether in the light of Aunt Mildred's rejection it was even right to try and say good-bye to Uncle Boritz, for she was feeling seriously confused as to what should reasonably be expected of her. If she left the room failing to say a proper good-bye with a friendly hug or quick kiss, this surely would be perceived as her being disgracefully rude, and yet it was obvious that neither of her guardians really cared for even the smallest, most minimal amount of physical contact with her. Sadly for Polly, this latest occasion yet again deepened her plight of knowing with great certainty she was little more than a horrible stench under their continuously offended nostrils, and so everything she did or said caused their utter revulsion toward her to worsen. This sad little truth never failed to cause Polly unimaginable anguish, for to be abandoned by her mother felt practically impossible to overcome, but to then be hated and despised by the replacement mother, well, that made life truly unbearable.

She therefore willingly allowed the withering, taut-faced nurse to take her hand and lead her away, leaving the doctor and her guardians to discuss her behind her back, as she knew they would. How Polly hated leaving that room, like many other rooms beforehand, because she feared the talk would not be good. She knew she had nobody in the whole wide world even remotely willing to represent her and maybe present some kinder aspects regarding her character, so she anticipated that her character would be brutishly ripped to shreds and sickeningly assassinated in her absence. She would have loved for someone, anyone, to question her guardians' truthfulness when it came to telling the many grim Polly Brown horror stories that they both considered excellent tea time material.

With Polly now making her way up to the ward, Dr. Ninkumpoop suggested that the Scumberrys follow after him to his office, where they could talk freely and unburden themselves of just about everything that might still be troubling their deeply concerned hearts.

It was well over an hour before they stepped out of his office to head for home.

“Well, Boritz, old chap, this private little chat has been, to say the least, most enlightening and informative, and so it will surely be of considerable help when it comes to constructing a mental hygiene plan for her to follow through. Knowing all this will also be crucial regarding what type of treatment we should opt for when dealing with her. I also promise to give great thought to all your helpful suggestions concerning the girl. Therefore, if it comes to the crunch, with all other avenues having been thoroughly exhausted, well then, I am certainly more than willing to consider giving her a round of electroconvulsive therapy.”

“Thank you, Nick. We are deeply and profoundly indebted to you.”

“I must say that though there have been a few alarming cases where certain patients have ended up as little more than catatonic dummies, there are many patients reporting great benefits from this alternative treatment. Why, I recently heard of one gentleman who, after many years of living as a recluse in a vegetative state of mourning, had the therapy, and his recovery was so incredibly successful that he recently opened up his own school of Latino dancing. Can you believe it?”

“Quite, quite unbelievable!” Boritz sniffed as he gave Mildred's hand a short, affirmative squeeze.

“However, I must warn that if we were to go down this avenue, there are many even within the profession who see it as the most senseless and barbaric form of therapy and believe that it should be dispensed with forthwith. With the girl being as young as she is, it might well cause something of an outcry,” he stated as he contorted his facial expressions to add more weight to his concerns.

“Well, they should try living with her, for they wouldn't last a week,” Boritz rudely interrupted, his bottom lip drooping like that of a surly child.

“Hmm. Quite! I therefore think that should we be forced to proceed down this path, we would be well advised to keep all this under our hats, yes, under wraps, so to speak.”

“Mum's the word,” Boritz cheerfully agreed, as he abandoned holding Mildred's hand to take a hold of the doctor's hand and give it a hearty shake and thereby make another informal gentleman's agreement.

“However, to my way of thinking, we should err on the side of caution and start with conventional methods, at least for the time being,” the doctor thoughtfully mused.

“While I'm at it, Boritz, old chap, this might be as good a time as any to privately tell you that there is much talk about my moving on.”

“Moving on?” a shocked Boritz queried.

“Yes, for I, old chap, have been offered a wonderful teaching post in Geneva, and although I have yet to fully make up my mind, the terms of the contract are, to say the least, highly favorable. If all this were to happen, there are two rather splendid candidates in the offing, Dr. Jellibone and Dr. Herringbone. Both, it appears, are originally from Trinity College and so are of immaculate pedigree; therefore, either candidate is perfectly suited for the job.”

“Oh, but Nick, we would be so terribly sorry to see you go,” Mildred rather impertinently interjected, pulling a long, sad-looking face.

“Well, thank you, Mildred, but I'm not gone yet. However, if I do take up the post, it will be left to the hospital board's discretion as to which of these two potential candidates gets to take over for my good self. Anyway, old chum, you must understand that all this is at present highly confidential, so I would ask you to keep this little secret under your hat as well; there's a good chap.”

“Affirmative, Nick, old chum. As with everything else, mum's the word. Thank you for entrusting us with your secret plans. Our lips are indeed thoroughly sealed, and so we will leave everything in your capable hands. Oh, and before we leave, please understand that we both feel it would be best if we stayed well away for the time being, as we really do need the break. We do trust that you will fully understand our position on this matter.”

“Yes, yes, Boritz, although I have to suggest that if this proposed lack of involvement were to be for any lengthy amount of time, it might well affect the girl most adversely,” he solemnly stated, as he then strategically placed a finger to the bridge of his nose to prevent his spectacles from sliding down any further, for they were in imminent danger of slipping off the end of his long, irregular-shaped nose.

On hearing this latest piece of private information, Boritz rather churlishly chose to pull another long, sullenly childish face, which the doctor, due to their longstanding friendship, once again chose to ignore.

“Friends, do not allow yourselves the privilege of taking great offense, for please try to remember that you represent family to the girl, and so it is important that you do not thoroughly neglect your responsibilities toward her. May I be bold enough to state that you are all she has in this world,” he said over his thin-framed glasses.

“Oh, Nick, my good friend, trust me when I say it will only be for a short season. Let's leave it until after the new year.”

“So do I take it that neither of you will be visiting Polly any time over the Christmas period?”

“No, Nick, for to be honest I have late January or early February in mind, yes, just long enough for us to have a well-earned rest in order to replenish and restore our bleeding and considerably battered emotions,” he nervously insisted.

Doctor Ninkumpoop walked the couple to the main exit door and quickly said his polite good-byes. Then, as promised, he made his weary way up to the ward in which the girl, along with her small, battered suitcase, had been sent. Hopefully by now the nurse would have had plenty of time to unpack the noticeably tatty-looking case of her few personal possessions, placing them all into the small bedside locker. He also hoped that Polly would be willingly submissive to the hospital regimen as the ward staff ordered her to swallow down her first handful of “mother's little helpers,” a cocktail of pleasantly assorted colorful pills that would, indeed, wash down very nicely with the further liquid medication he'd prescribed to jump-start the healing process. This would, in time, see her well on the way to a complete restoration of her seemingly very troubled young mind.

As the tall, impressively overeducated doctor stood ominously over the bed watching down on the small, frail figure curled up in a ball holding tightly on to a raggedy blue elephant, he could not fail but murmur.

“Tragic, so very tragic.” He had little choice but to admit that he felt both baffled and concerned by the thought of how the same girl who could portray such angelic sweetness when fast asleep could supposedly cause such merry mayhem when awake. He would have many months to ponder the question and maybe, just maybe find the answer.

Chapter Twenty-Two

JINGLE ALL THE WAY

C
HRISTMAS CAME AND
went, and nobody seemed either to care or notice that Polly's locker was among only a few that was absent of a cheery Christmas greeting card or two. Neither did any of the staff think to query the sad fact that Polly had no Christmas stocking filled with little goodies and treats to excitedly unwrap on Christmas Day. And while other patients received visitor after visitor, most of whom wished to overcompensate their troubled friend or close relative by showering them with many small, kind Christmas gifts followed up by overly extended hugs and kisses, Polly, on the other hand, received no visitors, no gifts, in fact, nothing whatsoever! She did not even receive a bar of sweet-smelling soap or wooly socks or maybe some nice, yummy chocolates to make her feel even the teeniest bit loved at this special time of the year, and yet she was still expected by all to act as though she were full to overflowing with festive cheer.

BOOK: The Trouble with Polly Brown
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