Poppycock is Tested

“I shouldn’t worry too much,” said Mr. Periwinkle, cradling his snifter of brandy lovingly, “She’s always a little bit gloomy anyways.” “But that’s just the point, Mr. Periwinkle,” Professor De Busque shook her golden hair in frustration, “Professor P’ohlig may always be a little gloomy, but right now she is a lot gloomy!” Mr. Periwinkle and the Professor looked thoughtfully out the window of the Poppycock kitchens into the back garden, where Maude was attempting to take Molly for a turn among the petunias, with little success. “She does keep falling over,” Mr. Periwinkle murmured, aware that he himself often fell over, but that was generally from the teensiest bit too much gin. He seemed to be steadier on brandy, but Professor P’ohlig was drinking neither gin nor brandy, not even pink champagne for that matter. Both Emily and Mr. Periwinkle winced as Molly crashed headfirst into the trellis, with poor Maude helpless to stop her. “That’s it,” said Emily, putting her dainty foot down quite firmly. “No more nonsense, we’re calling Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan.” Mr. Periwinkle raised his eyebrows as Emily picked up the lovely old phone on which Thomas Edison used to make crank calls to Nikola Tesla. * It had all begun some time ago, you see. Professor P’ohlig, always renowned for having a deceptively hardy constitution for one who looked a bit consumptive, had begun to have rather queer fainting spells. At first she blamed them on too many late nights with Mr. Periwinkle, and then too many nights of enforced gaiety in attempts to move past her curious financial affair with the avuncular Mr. Denning. However, even after cutting out the late nights and gaiety (and even Mr. Denning seemed to be aiming to be reinstated in his old position) she seemed to be toppling over at an alarming rate, and Emily, Maude, and Mr. Periwinkle were increasingly alarmed at how often they found her on the floor in various rooms of the house. Once she had collided with a rather large bookcase that had belonged to W.H. Auden on her way down, and if the shelves hasn’t been largely empty at the time owing to Maude going through quite a poetry period, well, let’s just say it would have been Leonard Bast all over again. Emily had to launch a sneak attack by bringing Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan to the house without Molly’s knowledge; she was notoriously skittish around doctors, especially when they were handsome and had difficult-to-pronounce last names. * “Well, I think it’s perfectly ridiculous and I don’t mind saying so!” Molly shouted unhappily. Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan or no Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan, she was not going to submit quietly. “I absolutely cannot see how all of these wires are going to make me stop falling down.” “Well, you’re right, Professor P’ohlig, they’re not,” the doctor said gently, attaching another electrode to Molly’s head. “They’re just going to help us figure out why you’re falling down.” Molly grumbled quietly, but let the doctor keep putting electrodes on her head while Emily patted her hand, Maude rubbed her feet, and Mr. Periwinkle fed her spoonfuls of Greek yogurt and very expensive Swedish granola. She really was the most frightful patient. “So we’re to make sure she keeps them on for 72 hours?” Emily nibbled her lower lip prettily and Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan blushed a little bit. “Y-yes,” he stammered, wrapping what seemed like an overly cautious amount of gauze around Molly’s head. “Just see that she doesn’t excite herself too much and I’ll be back in three days.” Molly glowered in her chair and refused to shake hands, so the doctor picked up his doctor’s bag and headed for the door. “And oh,” he called over his shoulder from the foyer, “No showering or bathing.” Molly opened her mouth and prepared to scream, but Mr. Periwinkle was ready with an extra large spoonful of yogurt and granola. * The next two days around the Poppycock offices were trying. The office itself was closed, as an invalid Professor P’ohlig required all hands on deck. The media room alternated a steady stream of BBC miniseries mixed with Korean family dramas. Maude was in charge of finding online videos of small animals to distract Molly with when her hair began to itch, and Mr. Periwinkle was on sustenance and libation duty to keep her spirits up, and Emily was always at the ready to stamp her foot and admonish when Molly began to behave badly. And when it was evening and Maude had been sent to bed, Mr. Periwinkle and Emily took turns reading “Fifty Shades of Grey” aloud in funny voices for amusement. And thus Poppycock held it together for three days. * “He’s at the door,” Molly said, looking up from her morning coffee. She was allowed the treat of the special Isak Dinesen blend from the farm in Kenya. “What?” Maude reached for the laptop, just in case that meant she was getting ready to scratch her head again. Just then the doorbell rang. Everyone gave Molly a funny look as Emily ushered in Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan. “Good morning, Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan,” Molly said without her usual stumble over his name. Even he was surprised. “Good morning! You seem to be feeling much better.” As he bent down to retrieve a stethoscope from his bag, Molly bounced from her chair and executed a tidy cartwheel. “Much better, thanks! You’re the one who should see a doctor, that sore throat’s not getting any better,” she said, smoothing her suspiciously clean hair down over the electrodes. “H-how did you know about my sore throat?” the doctor croaked uncertainly. “You know, I’m not sure? I just seem to have quite the handle on things this morning,” Molly said airily, like there was nothing amiss. “Oh, Maude, did you answer that letter from your solicitor? And Mr. Periwinkle, if you’d like to go home and phone your mother, that’s quite alright.” “How do you know all of these things all of a sudden?” Emily put on her Agatha Christie spectacles, which meant she meant business. “And why are you so clean if you haven’t had a bath in three days?” Molly looked from one puzzled face to the next, about to burst. She was hopeless at keeping secrets. “Alright!” she shouted. “I had a bath! I couldn’t take it any more! I was like decrepit creature from a Zola novel. And I think the electrodes didn’t like it because there was a bit of smoke and I think I might have fainted for a moment, but when I opened my eyes I felt perfectly well. Absolutely well.” Everyone stood by sternly as Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan checked her over and looked at the results of the test. “Well,” he said finally, “I wouldn’t recommend it to any future patients, but it seems that the patient has cured herself.” Molly smiled triumphantly. “The mild electrocution she received seems to have shocked her brain back to normal, and there’s no traces of any abnormality. However,” Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan paused uncertainly, “There seems to be a peculiar side effect.” “What side effect?” Emily asked. “I think I’m psychic!” Molly shouted happily. “Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan, isn’t there something that you wanted to ask Professor De Busque? I mean, you can certainly arrange the dinner date for when your sore throat has improved. Mr. Periwinkle, do call your mother, she has some news about your sister. And Maude, answer the phone.” That was when the phone began to ring. Everyone stared at Molly open-mouthed. Hopefully this was to be a temporary side effect. After everyone recovered from their initial shock, Emily put a hot compress around Dr. Murthiyrakkaventharan’s sore throat, Mr. Periwinkle made everyone hot buttered rum, and they all settled down to watch “The Far Pavilions”. They’d all seen it before, so Molly wouldn’t spoil it for everyone by shouting out what was going to happen next.