The Trouble with Polly Brown (94 page)

“Giles, please put your foot down hard on the pedal,” Will hurriedly demanded. “Yes, drive away quickly, for I would hate for her to see me shedding tears.”

Chapter Forty-Two

LETTERS OF HOPE

A
FEW MORE WEEKS
passed, and once again Lady Butterkist invited Polly to abandon her household tasks to join her in the drawing room.

“Polly dear, I am very much hoping this won't become something of a habit, but I have another very important visitor who is dying for the opportunity to see you.”

“Who could it be this time 'round?” Polly anxiously cried.

Suddenly the door burst open, and in rushed her younger brother, James.

Polly immediately burst into tears. James followed suit. Seconds later found them in a deep, meaningful embrace.

“Oh, James. This is so extraordinarily wonderful that I feel like bursting into a million little fragments,” she cried.

“Well, don't do it in here, dear, for Aunt Bessie would be most annoyed, and I'd hate to have to clear up the mess,” Lady Butterkist quickly chipped in.

“Oh, Lady B., once more I can think of no way to thank you for this day. Yet again you have made me the happiest person on earth.”

“Thank you, my dear, for I must again remind you that I delight to put back together that which others most maliciously and deceitfully seek to divide asunder. Now then, you two have much to catch up on, so I will go away and only come back when I am bearing a tray heaped with Aunt Bessie's chocolate-smothered cookies and a jug of homemade lemonade. Oh, and Polly, if I were you, I'd put on my party dress, for everybody here is taking the afternoon off, as we believe this visit calls for a serious party to take place,” she said as she quickly tossed a few streamers in Polly's direction for her to catch hold of.

Polly laughed. “Oh, Lady B., you really do think of every little detail.”

“Of course, my dear, for that is where my true talents lie. Now get wonderfully reacquainted while I go and make some lemonade,” she cried as she waltzed toward the open door and disappeared.

“Oh, James, this is so unexpected and therefore so wonderful,” she cried. “Did you get any of my postcards?”

“Well, I got one,” he admitted.

“Oh, no! I've sent at least five or six,” she said, giving him a disturbed look.

“Well, you know our guardians as well as I do, so I was lucky to get even one,” he sighed.

“I know,” she commiserated. “So thank goodness you are no longer ill. I was so shocked to see you lying in bed with pneumonia. How did you catch it?”

“Well, I'd rather not say, except it was due to a punishment.”

“I thought as much,” she sighed.

“Anyway, let's not dwell on such things, for I'm much better now.”

“Oh, James. This is so very precious; you have no idea what this means to me.”

“To tell you the truth, Polly, I was so surprised when Aunt Mildred told me to go and change into something respectable, as Giles would be picking me up and bringing me to see you—which leads me to believe that Lady Butterkist has secrets and ammunition that as of yet we know nothing of!”

“You can say that again, for she definitely treads where others fear to tread, except in Lady B.'s case I feel should exchange the word
tread
for
tramples
,” Polly quipped. “Yes, I cannot even begin to imagine the conversation that must have taken place to get our guardians to agree to this,” she quite rightly mused.

Polly had the time of her life showing James around the farmhouse and the animal sanctuary.

“Let's go and see what Aunt Bessie's cooking us all for lunch,” Polly brightly suggested.

“Hmm. Whatever you're cooking in that big oven of yours, Aunt Bessie, it smells real good,” Polly sighed as she stopped in her tracks and then breathed in deep.

“Well, Polly me luver, as you ask, it's your very favorite snake and pygmy pie.”

“Snake and pygmy pie! Pray, what on earth is that?” James asked, looking extremely shocked.

“Well, we place a few pygmies in a pot, add a few carrots and onions, and then bring to the boil—”

“Aunt Bessie, stop playing around!” Polly giggled. “James, what Aunt Bessie really means is that she's serving up my favorite dinner of steak and kidney pie!”

“Same thing to me,” Aunt Bessie roared, her plump cheeks blushing redder than ever. “And I'd be right in thinking that this here must be your younger brother?”

“Yes, Aunt Bessie, and I am thrilled to have him pay me this surprise visit.”

“Well, best sit down and try some of my homemade bread with this luverly gooseberry jam. Come on, then. Don't stand about sucking eggs, me little sunshine. We don't stand on ceremony down in these parts, so sit down here and get tucked in right away,” she playfully ordered them both. “But remember to save some room for the party that's taking place later on this very afternoon,” she dutifully reminded.

“Oh, we surely will,” Polly chirped back.

“Polly, I hope coming here today makes things better between us,” he anxiously sniffed.

“Yes, of course it does, you silly old thing,” she replied as she placed a sisterly arm around his neck.

“Oh, Polly. I promise that I cried myself to sleep every single night that you were in that horrible hospital. I imagined all sorts of terrible things, and many times I dreamt of sneaking out and coming to find you, but I had no way of getting to the hospital.”

“Please, James. I truly understand.”

“I begged to be allowed to write, but they refused to give me the stationery or the stamp. They even refused to pass on the correct address, and so I was up a gum tree without a paddle.”

“Yes, James, but forgive me for saying this, but I don't think you've got that quirky little saying right, for giving it some serious thought, would you be in need of a paddle if you're stuck up a gum tree? No, I think not.”

“Oh, but I only said that, Polly, because I've heard you say that same thing many times over.”

“Yes, James, I'm sure you're right, for I often get my words and phrases entirely mixed up, as well as the wrong way round. In fact, Lady Butterkist tells me regularly that I'm a real Miss Malaprop.”

“Oh, so who's she?”

“Oh, never you mind.”

“No, tell me please.”

“Well, she's a lady who used to get her words all mixed up and around the wrong way.”

“Oh. Anyway, I tell you now, Polly, these past two years have felt really terrible and so lonely for me.”

“I believe you. Really, I do. But come on, James, eat up, for I want to show you one of my best friends. His name is Boxer, and he came here a few weeks ahead of me.”

After lunch Polly and James took a gentle stroll down to the animal sanctuary. “Look, James, there are dogs, cats, goats, turtles, in fact, an unimaginable array of animals that people bought as pets and even cruelly hurt before thoughtlessly abandoning them with about as much conscience as comes with discarding an ice cream wrapper.”

“I know. It's awful.”

“Come. Don't be afraid. He will not hurt you,” she said, beckoning James to come and stand beside her.

James resisted a little before nervously walking toward her.

“Here, Boxer loves to be stroked, so come over and touch his long, silky mane.”

“Polly, what are those awful marks all down his neck and back?”

“Oh, they are the scars from where he has been constantly beaten,” she quietly explained.

Tears instantly welled in her brother's eyes.

“Oh, the poor thing. How beastly. How could anyone do such a thing?”

“James, I really have no idea at all,” she sighed. “How do half the terrible things that go on in this world happen? Why do people drop bombs? I have always had the torment of such hideous questions terrorizing me night after night as I wrestle with my pillow, and at least for the present I have stopped asking, for there appears to be no answer that could ever begin to satisfy me. I am learning just to do what my conscience tells me is right and not worry about what others chose to do or not do.”

“Hmm.”

“Here, keep stroking him. That's it. Yes, James, as I was saying, I can't allow my life to be plunged into the doldrums because others choose wickedness over goodness and hate over love. As Shakespeare himself once wrote, at least I think it was him, and therefore I quote: ‘Ours is not to question why. Ours—'”

“OK, clever clogs. Don't get too brainy on me, for I think I get your drift,” he said as he gently began to stroke Boxer.

To quote Lady B., the surprise party that afternoon was an absolute blast.

So once more the day came to an end long before either James or Polly wished for. As she stood by the old jalopy still in her party dress as she waited to see him on his way, he turned, and with a serious and solemn face he looked her directly in the eye.

“James, what is it?” she politely asked

James began to stutter and tremble.

“James, come on. You're beginning to really frighten me.”

Still he stood in an awkward silence, a look of high anxiety splashed all over his young features.

“Please don't hold back from me. After all, I'm your sister, so spit it out,” she cried.

James still said nothing, as he sheepishly chose the moment to thrust his hand deep into his trouser pocket.

“This is all very mysterious. What are you hiding away in your pocket?” she nervously asked.

James reluctantly removed his hand from his pocket, bringing with him a small bundle of what looked like scrunched up notes.

“Here, Polly. I believe these rightfully belong to you, so therefore they should be in your possession,” he quietly announced.

“For me?”

“Yes, you.”

“James, tell me, what are they?” she quizzed.

“See for yourself,” he once again quietly responded.

“Oh my goodness. These are letters from Aazi! Tell me, James, where on earth did you find them?”

James hung his head low. “Promise you won't tell?” he mumbled.

“Don't be so daft! You know I'd never do anything like blow the whistle to get you in trouble. But all the same, you must come clean and tell me right away. Where on earth did you find them?”

“Well, remember when I was so upset that time Uncle Boritz told me he was unable to remember where he had placed all my models for safekeeping?”

“Yes, I remember, so go on,” she urged.

“Well, I eventually decided to do a bit of my own detective work.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Well, one day I waited until he was saying his usual good-byes to fat old Dr. Glumchops, and you know how boorishly longwinded and ridiculously verbose his good-byes always are,” he said as he then went on to reenact his sycophantic guardian.

“Dear boy, we simply cannot afford to leave it so long till we next meet, for our times together stretch both my imagination as well as my extraordinarily meticulous and virile wit. So good-bye to you, my good man, and please send my express regards and undying wishes to your awfully wonderful and most deserving wife, whatever her name might be.”

“Yes, yes. Oh, James, you're so funny. I had no idea that you could imitate him so well,” she said as she broke into a laugh.

“Well, Polly, allow me to continue, for as his study door was partially open and his vicious guard dog was absent from guard patrol, I used the opportunity to sneak into his study to take a good look for myself.”

“Yes, go on,” she impatiently urged.

“Well, when I saw my models in his locked glass-fronted cabinet alongside all his awards and trophies, I decided there and then that it was now or never. I was going to take back what rightfully belonged to me—yes, my property.”

“Goodness, you are really brave!”

“No, Polly.
Brave
isn't the right word.
Angry
and
desperate
best describe how I felt at the time, for I'd had just about a bellyful of his lame excuses.”

“Or rather, his downright lies,” Polly quickly interjected.

“Yes, well anyway, using a small screwdriver I managed to pry opened the door to the glass cabinet, and that was when I found them. I was really shocked when I realized that the bundle of letters had been kept from you, and so I decided there and then that it was right to take just a few of them. The reason I only helped myself to a few was so as not to arouse unnecessary suspicion.”

“But what of your precious models, James?”

“Well, I made the decision to just leave them where they were, as I thought retrieving some of your letters was far more important,” he quietly commented.

“Oh, James, how caring and unselfish you are. You are such a wonderful brother. I cannot thank you enough,” she cried.

The two of them stood for many minutes locked in a meaningful embrace.