Polly Brown Page 4

  After tea Polly stood in the growing line and waited to get into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Polly did not like brushing her teeth because by the time it came to her turn there was very little pink toothpaste left in the tin, and everyone before her had spat in it to loosen it up to a lather. Polly longed for her own tube of toothpaste. Then it was time for bed, much too early for Polly’s liking or for that matter, any of the other children’s liking. The routine was precisely the same every day.

  Earlier that day after the dishes from Sunday lunch were washed, dried, and put away, Polly found she had very little to do. She knew if she hung around the castle she would be given extra chores, so she decided to go for a walk down through the town and then along the river bank. She felt she knew every tuft of grass along the bank, for she had walked it so often. She used these times to make up little songs and poems to ease her sense of loneliness in this big and cruel world.

  As she strolled down the street, she passed by a delightful English tearoom called The Copper Kettle. In a town that had considerably more tearooms than most, she deemed it to be her favorite. It had a wonderful fireplace with a lovely picture over the mantelpiece. Hanging on either side were copper bed warmers and horse brasses along with all sorts of copper and brass effects that added to the tearoom’s warmth and charm, making it look so homely and inviting. Delightful English teapots of every size and shape were displayed on a high ledge that spanned the whole length of the tearoom. Once these teapots were sold to customers, more unusual teapots replaced them.

  As Polly pressed her nose up against the large, steamy windowpane to peer around the tearoom, it only served to intensify her deep despair.

  She longingly looked on as she closely observed families huddled cozily around the tables, talking and laughing together as they delighted in each others’ company. Bustling waitresses in black skirts and frilly white aprons attended to their customers’ every need as little brass bells on each table constantly rang to inform the waitresses that their assistance was required. Polly watched enviously as children munched and crunched their way through hot scones piled with sweet strawberry jam and topped with lashings of thick cream. The ordeal was not over then, for as soon as these were devoured a huge plate of cakes would be placed on the table. The children would choose from chocolate éclairs, raspberry gâteau, and fresh cream meringues topped with a cherry while through candy-striped straws they slurped and burped on large glasses of Coke and lemonade. Waitresses filed past each other to other tables with mind-boggling knickerbocker glories that seemed to reach to the sky, peach sundaes, endless banana splits, and pineapple upsidedown cakes. The list of mouth-watering food appeared endless.

  Not only did Polly long to just have a little taste of the delights being served up at the tables, but she also had an even deeper longing to just belong. She stared at all the families in the tearoom and chose the one who looked to be the kindest. Then she imagined just what it might be like to be a part of their family. She often had to restrain herself from just sneaking in undetected and quietly pulling up a chair to join them. She would then hope that the family she had picked for that specific day would not notice they had gained an extra child!

  Near the fireplace stood an old, worn out spinning wheel that had not been in use for many years. A pile of children’s books, as well as the classics by Shakespeare, Dickens, and the Brontës, were neatly stacked on the mantelpiece, with many small stools surrounding the hearth. Polly knew that over many years hundreds of little children sat on these stools as they gathered excitedly around the hearth to listen to stories, poems, and fairy tales read by a storyteller. This tradition no longer existed, for the new owners viewed the book-reading sessions as a complete waste of time. It didn’t take much counting on their fat little fingers to conclude that such treats made them no extra money and therefore needed to be dispensed with as quickly as possible!

  Polly constantly wished she could own a tearoom such as this. If ever this impossible dream became a reality, her first priority would be to reinstate the book-reading sessions that had given such joy to so many children. The previous owners had even searched the streets to find children who would listen to the stories. They would have been so sad to know this wonderful treat no longer existed. Polly knew they had been such kind and gracious people. The same could not be said for the new owners who now ran the tearoom. Their names were Hilda and Ernest Greedol.

  Polly often witnessed Mrs. Greedol flying into a most irrational frenzy, reducing some poor waitress to floods of tears. Many times she had stopped and handed a handkerchief along with words of comfort to one of them as they sat on the steps, much too afraid to go back in and face more of the same. Today was no exception. Polly crouched down next to the young girl and pulled out her hanky.

  “You might need this, Emily,” she said softly, placing it in between Emily’s cupped hands, which where covering her face.

  “Oh, hi there, Polly,” sniffed Emily. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “What have you done to upset the old dragon today?” Polly sympathetically asked.

  “Not a lot,” replied Emily before going on to explain the latest upset. “A family asked if they could have a jug of water with their meal, as they did not wish their children to have fizzy soda. Mrs. Greedol saw me filling the jug and wanted to know why I agreed to give them water. I simply told her that the family on table nine requested it. She suddenly started fuming and said we were not here to serve them free water, so I should have politely refused and offered to show them our long list of beverages. ‘Water does not bring in the money,’ she yelled at me. ‘Tea, coffee, and fizzy drinks do. Understand that, my girl?’ she kept shouting. Honestly, Polly, I have had enough. Not a day goes by without her going on a faultfinding mission, and all of us girls spend our time at work terrified as we wait for her next outburst.”

  Polly put her arms around Emily and gave her a big hug. “Let me tell you now, Emily, you did the right thing. It costs us nothing to show kindness, and that is something Old Moneybags knows nothing about. You should feel sorry for her.”

  Polly had only just finished her sentence when she heard a commotion coming from inside the tearoom. She leapt up and peered through the glass window. Needless to say it was Mrs. Greedol. But this time she was shouting at a customer.

  “Lumpy? You say my custard is too lumpy?” she roared over the head of the terrified customer, a very slight gentleman with thin, round spectacles. “Well, I’ll give you lumpy, you ungrateful little toad,” she hollered at the top of her lungs. “Mark my words, you’ll be covered with lumps by the time I’m finished with you!” Then, without any warning, she picked up the pudding bowl and emptied it over his head. “Now get out of my tearoom, you oversized ape!” she screamed.

  Polly looked on in utter amazement, as did all the customers who had witnessed this most unseemly outburst firsthand. Polly could not help but observe that Mrs. Greedol’s insult was a better description of herself than the man she had just assaulted. For she was as fat as a large Jam roly-poly and had the most outrageous shot of bright orange hair, which she attempted to control by scraping to one side. Polly corrected herself: she did not resemble an ape, but an orangutan!

  As she stood outside on the pavement in relative safety, Polly continued to watch through the large window. Mr. Greedol had now rushed from behind the serving counter to where his wife stood with her hand on her hips, eyes blazing, and bosom heaving up and down most rapidly. He tried to restrain her, but he was a very thin, quiet man and certainly no match for her. As he whipped off his green striped apron and attempted to grab her thick, fleshy arm, she dismissively pushed him aside, bent over the table, and physically picked up the offending customer by his jacket lapels. Then, with his legs dangling off the ground, she marched him towards the entrance, pinched his chin between her fingers, and twisted his face to meet hers, eyeball to eyeball.

  “I said get out, and that’s what I meant!” she thundered, giving him a
hard, swift boot that propelled him straight out the door. The poor man landed beside Emily. He looked shaken and dazed as he stood up, and after removing the napkin that was still tucked into his trouser belt, he began wiping away the custard that still dripped from his head. This done, he straightened his crumpled jacket, adjusted his glasses, and hurried down the road as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Polly turned to Emily, “I think you may be needed inside,” she said with a wry grin, for she felt certain that many of the customers would need some assurance that they were not in for similar “hands-on” service.

  Polly decided that she had seen enough action for one day, so, having said good-bye to Emily, she proceeded to walk up the long hill towards home. She had only gone a few feet when a stunning royal blue car drove past, pulling up alongside the curb directly outside the Copper Kettle tearoom. It was a gleaming Rolls-Royce, and therefore it had to be carrying a passenger of immeasurable wealth or, at the very least, someone of immense importance—a dignitary perhaps. Or maybe even royalty! The driver stepped out of the car. He was dressed in a smart navy blue uniform adorned with large, shiny gold buttons. He wore white gloves and a black cap. His black shoes were also highly polished. He made his way to the side of the car and, with much dignity, opened the passenger door.

  Out tumbled one young girl after another. After six, Polly stopped counting. The girls alighted from the back of the plush car and stood on the pavement as they waited with great anticipation to enter the tearoom. Polly noticed that all the girls were dressed in beautiful cotton frocks with big bows tied at the back. They had frilly white ankle socks, shiny shoes, and colored ribbons in their flowing, brushed-to-a-shine, long hair. They all looked happy and so beautiful. Polly felt certain they must be real princesses; all that was missing were their diamond tiaras. Polly reasoned that they had probably accidentally left them indoors because they had left their houses in such a hurry. As she stood staring in their direction, she felt strong pangs of jealousy come over her. She thought to herself that life was indeed very unfair.

  Minutes later, Mrs. Greedol rushed out and, with all the charm in the world, greeted the girls like they were long, lost friends before directing them through the open door and into the tearoom to the long table reserved especially for them. As they all took their seats, they handed the birthday princess present after present. Polly was transfixed by what she saw. Her nose pressed hard against the large windowpane as every present the birthday girl opened brought squeals of delight. In truth, it was all too much for poor Polly, but agonizing as it was to behold, she could not tear herself away and just go home.

  Mrs. Greedol had covered the table with a pristine white linen tablecloth and put out her best china. A huge, beautiful birthday cake covered in pink candles stood elevated on a delicate glass cake stand in the center of the table. Within minutes of being seated, the little young ladies were served delicate, triangular sandwiches followed by teas and cakes, all washed down with cocktails of fizzy fruit juice served from tall-stemmed sparkling wine glasses. The air was filled with great merriment as the girls ate and laughed amongst themselves, totally oblivious to Polly’s presence outside the window. Finally, once all the delicious food had been devoured and the table cleared of gift wrapping, paper bows, and empty plates, there remained only the stunningly beautiful birthday cake left to consume.

  Polly could see that Mrs. Greedol was waiting in the wings, most anxious to bring the party to a close. She loathed displays of fun and affection with a passion, but she reasoned that she had little choice other than to tolerate them for they brought in a lot money. Having borne the merriment for as long as she was able, Mrs. Greedol grabbed a waitress by her apron strings and ordered her to hurry up and light the candles. The waitress obliged, taking a small box of matches and heading towards the girls’ table. Mr. and Mrs. Greedol disappeared from sight, for they had no intention of joining in any of the fun.

  The cake’s smooth, iced surface had “Princess Charlotte” written on the top in beautiful pink scroll writing, and this special cake held the place of honor in the center of the table. Once the waitress lit all the candles with utmost efficiency, all that remained was to encourage the girls to start singing. The atmosphere in the room was one of celebration. So much so that all the customers present in the tearoom, waitresses included, happily obliged and joined in to sing “Happy Birthday.” As the young princess stood up and bent over the cake, her face lit up with pure radiance. She took a deep breath, and with one almighty blow, she blew out every one of the candles.

  “We hope you remembered to make a wish, Lottie,” cried one of the girls, giving her a friendly nudge.

  “Oh yes, I certainly did,” replied Charlotte, laughing out loud as she answered her friend.

  “Go on, tell us what you wished,” urged another friend.

  “Yes, go on. Tell us, Lottie!”

  “Oh, please do!” the others in complete unison cried.

  “Oh, all right then. If you insist,” Charlotte replied with a giggle. “I wished that when I grow up, I would meet a wonderfully handsome man who is both rich and famous and that we would live in a huge mansion with our ten children.”

  “Ten!” interrupted one of the girls loudly, expressing pure disbelief.

  “Oh, all right—three,” admitted Charlotte. “And then we will live happily ever after.” She paused before bursting into uncontrollable laughter that was so infectious it sent the rest of the girls into more fits of giggles.

  Polly wished with all her heart that she could be at the table with the girls, joining in the fun and friendship they all seemed to share. She knew that if she were allowed to make a wish, it would be a very different wish than that of young, carefree Charlotte. She would just wish for a loving mother and father to take care of her brothers and herself. She longed for kind people who would not ever harm them, no matter how much they tried their patience. On the contrary, they would do all in their power to encourage them to do well and make the best of their lives. Mummy would smell of sweet rose-scented perfume and have a soft, gentle voice. She would calm all their fears and wipe away all their tears. Daddy would take the boys out for bike rides and show them how to sail a boat and how to catch the sort of fish that normally got away. Polly knew it was a huge wish, but all the same, she longed to be allowed to make such a wish that might just come true! She took a deep breath, for dreaming such a dangerously wild dream was as hopeless as catching a twinkling star.

  Suddenly, Mrs. Greedol appeared from behind the food counter and noticed Polly’s face glued to the window–her window! She raced to the door, muttering all the way. She flung open the door, leapt out onto the pavement, and then, like a rhinoceros with nostrils flaring, raced towards unsuspecting Polly. Luckily, Polly caught her reflection in the window and turned around just in time to duck. Mrs. Greedol charged at her with her head down, determined to butt her into the next universe. Mrs. Greedol screeched to a halt, but it was too late. She hit the window with a thump. Any harder and the glass window would have shattered. Frustrated at missing her intended target and with her pride as bruised as her bloodied face, Mrs. Greedol had to content herself with shouting and waving her fists in the air. Polly ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her. “Stay away from here, you filthy, dirty girl! We don’t want your type here leaving your germs and dirty paw marks on my window pane and scaring off the customers!” she raged.

  Polly ran and ran until she could run no more. Mrs. Greedol staggered very shakily back into the tearoom, heading straight for the cupboard that contained the bright red first aid box. She then moved on to the freezer to make up an ice pack.

  Chapter 4

  BORITZ ON THE WARPATH

  THE NEXT MORNING Polly woke up early from her bed and, after getting dressed, made her way down the oak stairs and headed for the kitchen. She was hungry, and it was breakfast time. Polly took a bowl from the cupboard and scooped out a cup of cornflakes from one of the two very large boxes t
hat stood on the pantry floor. They were so large that they nearly came up to Polly’s waist. One box contained puffed wheat, the other cornflakes. The simple truth was that she fancied neither, for both cereals tasted like cardboard. They were always very stale, just like the bread. But she knew that nothing else was available to her.

  She took the bowl to the counter and poured milk from a large jug onto the cornflakes. The lukewarm liquid was full of thick lumps, not because the milk was old, but because it was powdered milk that had not been stirred properly. The milk substitute was normally made up by one of the foster children with better things to do, so it was always full of thick, powdery lumps that broke up in her mouth and so tasted truly disgusting. The real milk was strictly for the adults’ consumption, and she only got to drink cold milk on the few times she managed to sneak into the kitchen and, when no one was looking, take a quick swig from one of the many bottles lined up inside the tall refrigerator. She felt guilty at being so deceitful, but then again, she privately reasoned, this was how things were. For with all the best food under lock and key in Uncle Boritz’s private pantry and fresh milk forbidden, she felt God Himself might well understand her small indiscretion.

  Polly then made her way to one of the long tables, and, taking her bowl with her, she pulled out a chair and sat down. She knew that before she could take the first mouthful it would be very necessary to catch all the little insects called silverfish that floated to the top of the milk. She observed as she peered into the bowl that they were quite literally swimming for their lives. Using her spoon, she encouraged the drowning insects to the side of the bowl. Once there, she squashed them flat before removing them with a finger, which she then wiped on her dress. Some days this little task seemed to take forever as the little rogues fought hard and long not to be captured. They knew that once caught, their time was up! With seven of the little mites expired, Polly felt confident enough to finally start eating her breakfast. Just then she spotted another silverfish. Polly showed him no mercy as she sent him the way of the others. With her mission accomplished, she now believed she could eat the cereal with no further crisis.