The Trouble with Polly Brown (55 page)

Polly tried to keep up with the others while at the same time taking in some of her surroundings. She could not fail to notice that there was a distinct absence of windows, which would surely have brightened the corridors with their natural light, making the long trek much more pleasant. She also noted that what appeared to be all that was left of the peeling paint on the walls looked the most horrible, rancid green and murky yellow, and there was a distinct absence of any colorful pictures, which might surely give patients and visitors alike a little lift in their otherwise dampened spirits.

So, as she continued to follow after the cold, unfeeling nurse as they made their way down the bleak and soulless corridors of doom, she felt as empty and gloomy on the inside as the walls surrounding her portrayed on the outside.

Finally, like a locomotive train fresh out of steam, the stony-faced nurse came to an abrupt halt outside an unmarked door. With no word of warning she dropped Polly's suitcase to the floor and then knocked loudly on the door.

Seconds later, and with the help of a large key, it was opened from the inside by yet another drab, worn-out-looking nurse who, having picked up the suitcase, ordered in yet another passionless, monotone voice that they follow after her. They went down yet more lengthy corridors. After walking through what seemed like a maze, they found themselves being ordered to take a seat in a very drab waiting room.

After making her way to the center of the room, the nurse then stood still with an expressionless look on her face as in chillingly, monosyllabic tones she went on to inform them that Dr. Ninkumpoop had been told of their arrival at the hospital and was now on his way down to personally greet them. The nurse, having done her legal and moral duty, then grunted something pretty inaudible before turning on her heels to disappear, leaving them alone in the sparsely furnished waiting room.

They all remained seated, with not one friendly, comforting word of conversation passing between them. At one point, with little else to do but wait, Aunt Mildred opened her handbag in search of a handkerchief. The next five minutes seemed both endless and embarrassing for Polly, as her aunt then loudly and frequently blew into her spotted pink-and-white handkerchief, which bore an embroidered rose emblem on one corner. Polly, who was feeling very uncomfortable in her surroundings, felt visibly relieved when Aunt Mildred finally deigned to pop her favorite handkerchief back into her purse.

Out of boredom, Polly continued to gaze around the sparse room until her eyes fell on a coffee table stacked high with interesting, well-thumbed magazines, but she knew better than to stray over toward them, so she just sat and jiggled about as she tried and failed most miserably to get even the teeniest bit comfortable.

Seconds later the door burst open, and in marched the almost famous and much talked about Dr. Nick Ninkumpoop.

“Boritz, so awfully good to see you,” the old and wizened doctor with the hysterical-sounding voice cried out as he generously held out a very decrepit, wrinkled hand to greet his friend.

Polly looked up, and her eyes immediately became fixated by his most peculiar and shockingly overgrown eyebrows, which notably took on the appearance of wings about to take flight. Polly continued to stare directly at him, for not only was his graying hair standing up on end, leaving her with the presumption that he must have recently survived a severe electrocution, but both ears were also nicely sprouting an overabundance of unrecognizable flora or fauna.

“Nick, likewise it is so good to see you,” Boritz replied as he leaned forward to give his esteemed friend a warm and hearty shake of the hand. “You know Mildred, my wife, don't you?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I have had that pleasure on many occasions, although it must be quite some time since we last bumped into one another. Hmm. I think the occasion in question was probably some formal luncheon or dinner, although I'm ashamed to say that I can't think quite where this event took place,” the doctor remarked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as if this act alone would bring to the forefront the remembrance required, for this event was still quite clearly alluding him.

“Oh, deary me, this is quite, quite distressing to say the least!”

“No, no, Dr. Ninkumpoop, or may I call you Nick? Don't you remember that we met up at last year's hospital fete when you asked me to be involved in the prize-giving ceremony?” she meekly informed the doctor, her eyes never leaving his for one second as she meltingly went on to give him a lingering handshake as though it were the hand of some famous celebrity or king.

“Gosh, well then, that was some time ago, Mildred,” he stated, looking a trifle embarrassed. “You, my dear, clearly have a much better memory than my good self,” he said, giving her a warm, affectionate smile.

Mildred seemed to suck up his last comment as though it was some extremely rare compliment.

As Polly continued to listen to the slightly hysterical ramblings of the quirky doctor, she began to feel quite concerned and could only hope that his seeming hysteria was borne more out of immense personal happiness, as opposed to extreme madness. She hoped with all her heart that it was the former, as he was now the one person in the universe to which both her soul and mind—albeit against her will—was about to be entrusted.

As Polly attempted to show some interest in their polite but meaninglessly trite conversation, which was constantly filled with uninspiring social pleasantries, her eyes were suddenly drawn to a blackboard that up until this moment in time she had completely failed to notice. As her eyes scrutinized the message written in pink chalk, she began to feel quite alarmed, for someone had rather cheekily scrawled, “You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps.”

“Oh, goodness gracious me. I really am in the crazy house,” she wearily mused.

“Now then, this must be the young whippersnapper, am I correct?” the doctor stated as through his thick glasses he observed her as though she were some rather vulgar-looking species of maggot under a microscope.

“Yes, sir,” Polly mumbled.

“Well, girl, don't just sit there like a wilting cabbage going through the early stages of decomposition. Stand to attention when the good doctor is addressing you,” Mildred sharply rebuked.

Polly, in an effort to be obedient, instantly jumped up from her seat, but with her head hung low she still only managed to whisper a very limp, deflated hello.

“Goodness gracious, girl, you are so socially ill bred. You'll have to do a lot better than that,” Mildred scornfully reprimanded.

“It's all right. I quite understand if the girl is feeling a little bit nervous and afraid. So let's all go up to the hospital canteen and get a nice, hot cup of tea, shall we? After all is said and done, tea most surely is the priceless cup of life. Afterward I will take her up to the ward and introduce her to the staff that will be taking care of her.”

On the way down to the canteen Boritz gave his wife a sly, hard dig in the ribs before mouthing a timely reminder that she was being most negligent in showing off her warm, maternal side. After all, it had over the years been a mutual agreement by both parties concerned that they would always behave in a certain manner and show great displays of affection toward the children and each other whenever they appeared in the public eye.

The next five minutes saw a sulking Mildred walking along huffing and puffing as she expressed deep hurt at his harsh rebuke, for at the end of the day he obviously needed to be reminded that she was truly at the end of her tether where the young, socially maladjusted Polly Brown was concerned.

As they sat at one of many plastic coated tables in the large, uninspiring, and almost empty canteen, the sounds dominating the entire air space were that of the kitchen staff yelling and shouting orders at each other as they prepared food and washed up large metal vats and other large bulky miscellaneous restaurant equipment.

Conversation was kept to a minimum as, savoring tea that looked and tasted more like filthy soapy dishwater, they continued to endure the constant crashing around of pots and pans made by uncouth kitchen staff. However, none of this could even begin to quench the spirit of Dr. Ninkumpoop as he continued enthusiastically to blow his own trumpet concerning all his latest treatments, which were taking him across the globe and winning him top awards in the medical field. “I do believe I am the talk of the town at this moment. In fact, my ears are burning even as we speak,” he said, beaming from ear to ear.

Polly looked over and began to imagine a forest fire burning away due to the amount of undesirable plumage sticking out from both ears.

“Oh, I'm sure you're being far too modest, doctor. You are surely well on your way to becoming world famous,” a sickly servile Mildred purred.

Both Mildred's and Boritz's faces shone with pride as they listened intently to the scatty, egotistical doctor droning on and on about all the accolades he now had under his belt.

“Please, somebody execute me now,” Polly groaned under her breath, as she was forced to sit still and pretend to show some sort of polite interest in their entirely sycophantic three-way conversation while she continued to be completely ignored, something she had grown quite used to.

“Oh, Boritz old chum, while I'm at it I have just had some more very good news. Some darling old countess dowager who I had never heard of before but who, I'm told, has a most desirable and palatial residence somewhere just outside of Scunthorpe called me this morning to inform me that she wishes to pay for a brand new wing to be built onto the hospital. She gave me the address of her solicitor and suggested I call them, and they will then release the check.”

“Goodness, Nick, that's marvelous, but are you going to disclose how much the check will be for?”

“Well, at this precise moment I am unprepared to disclose the amount, but let me tell you now it is an exceedingly large donation, in fact, the biggest we have ever received,” he ecstatically cried.

“Unbelievable!” a very jealous Boritz muttered.

“The reason she gave is simply that she is so concerned for many of our teenage children, many of whom are falling by the wayside and therefore in urgent need of specialist help.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Now, if Polly is still residing with us when this brand new wing is finally finished, then naturally she will be transferred to this new section of the hospital. If the whole operation goes smoothly we are confident we will be able to open this new wing in perhaps the next twelve to eighteen months. Naturally, we will be inviting her to come and celebrate with us, and perhaps after downing a couple of glasses of champers she can then do the honor of cutting the ribbon.”

“Nick, old boy, you have failed to reveal this generous-hearted lady's name.”

“Oh, forgive me, old boy, her name is Lady Ralphella Butterkist.”

“By the way, Boritz old chap, there must be an overabundance of philanthropists and other charitable people in the circles you move in, so are you at all familiar or acquainted with this particularly generous-hearted dowager?”

“No, Nick, sad to say I don't believe I've ever even heard of her, but I rather wish I had,” he soulfully sniffed, his voice trailing off. “Perhaps you might consider inviting both Mildred and my good self to your opening ceremony, and naturally this could be seen as the perfect excuse for you to introduce us over a small liquid lunch. If, as you suggest, she has such a heart for young people, then she might wish to show us the benevolent side of her nature, for our home is always looking for extra financial assistance, as our monthly expenditure runs well into the thousands!”

“Hmm. I bet it does—and that doesn't even begin to take into account your love of fine antiques, as well as all the private golf and yacht club expenses. Oh, and we mustn't forget your passion for fine wines and restaurants either, old boy,” Dr. Ninkumpoop playfully suggested as he gave his good friend a hearty pat on the back. “Yes, you've always had a natural inclination for the finer things in life.”