The Complete Polly and the Wolf

by Catherine Storr

  The little girl in front of Polly was finally persuaded to go up and say something in a breathy, awestruck whisper. Polly, just behind her, was near enough to hear the answer.

  “Box of sweets,” said Father Christmas in a distinctly unpleasant tone. “What do you want a box of sweets for? You’re quite fat enough already to satisfy any ordinary person, I should think.”

  The child clutched her mother’s hand tightly, and the manager, who was standing near, looked displeased. “Come, come,” Polly heard him say sharply in Father Christmas’s ear, “you can do better than that, surely.”

  Father Christmas jumped, threw a sharp glance over his shoulder at the manager and leant forward to the little girl. “Yes, of course you shall have a box of sweets,” he said. “Only wouldn’t you like something more interesting? For instance a big juicy steak, with plenty of fried potatoes? Or what about pork chops? I always think myself there’s nothing like . . .”

  “Next please,” the manager called out loudly. “And a happy Christmas to you, dear,” he added to the surprised little girl who was being led away by her mother, unable to make head or tail of this extraordinary Father Christmas.

  Polly moved up. The Father Christmas inclined his ear towards her to hear what she wanted in her stocking, but Polly had something else to say.

  “Wolf, how could you!” she hissed in a horrified whisper. “Pretending to be Father Christmas to all these poor little children—and you’re not doing it at all well, either.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” the wolf said gloomily. “I never meant to let myself in for this terrible affair. I just put on my costume—and I did the beard rather well this time, don’t you think?—and I went out to see if I could find you, and this wretched man”—and he threw a glance of black hate at the shop manager—“nobbled me in the street, and pulled me in here, and set me to asking the same stupid question of all these beastly children. And they all want the same things,” he added venomously. “If it’s boys they want space guns, and if it’s girls they want party frocks and television sets. Not one of them’s asked for anything sensible to eat. One of them did ask for a baby sister,” he said thoughtfully, “but did she really want her to eat, I ask myself?”

  “I should hope not,” Polly said firmly.

  “And I’m much too hot and my whiskers tickle my ears horribly,” the wolf complained. “And there’s not a chance of snatching a bite with this man standing over me all the time.”

  “Wolf, you wouldn’t eat the children!” Polly said in protest.

  “Not all of them,” the wolf answered. “Some of them aren’t very—”

  “Next please,” said the manager loudly. A deliciously plump, juicy little boy was pushed to stand just behind Polly. He was reciting to himself and his mother, “I want a gun, an’ I want soldiers, an’ I want a rocking ’orse, an’ I want a steam engine, an’ I want . . .”

  “I think you’re going to be busy today,” Polly said. “I probably shan’t be seeing you for a time. Happy Christmas,” she added politely, as she made way for the juicy little boy. “I hope you enjoy yourself with all these friendly little girls and boys.”

  “Grrrrrr,” replied Father Christmas. “I’ll enjoy myself still more when I’ve unhooked my beard and got my teeth into one unfriendly little girl. Just you wait, Polly: Christmas or no Christmas, I’ll get you yet.”

  4. The Hypnotist

  POLLY was sitting on a bench on the Heath near one of the ponds, looking at the boys sailing boats. There were a good many people sitting, standing, and talking to each other, so Polly was not really frightened, though she was a little surprised, to find the wolf sitting at the other end of the bench from her. When she saw him he was gazing at her fixedly.

  “Good morning, Wolf,” Polly said politely.

  “Good morning, Polly,” the wolf said, in a deeper voice than usual.

  “It’s a lovely day.”

  “Yes,” said the wolf, without taking his eyes off Polly’s face.

  “Don’t you like seeing the ships sailing on the pond?”

  “Yes,” said the wolf, without taking his eyes off Polly’s face.

  “Especially the sailing ships—the ones with sails.”

  “Especially the ones with tails . . . Oh do be quiet, Polly,” the wolf said impatiently in his ordinary voice. “How can I concentrate when you keep on talking about things that don’t matter?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Polly, a little hurt in her feelings. “I was only trying to be polite. I didn’t know you were concentrating.”

  She turned back to look at the pond again, leaving the wolf to his concentration. But this time he interrupted her.

  “Polly,” said the wolf in his new deep voice, “look at me.”

  Polly turned and looked at him.

  “Look at me,” the wolf said again.

  “I am looking,” Polly said impatiently. “What is it? I can’t see anything different.”

  “Look at me,” said the wolf for the third time.

  Polly looked very carefully. Then she clapped her hands.

  “I see! How silly of me not to notice before. You’ve painted a white moustache over your mouth like a funny man in a pantomime. It’s very good, Wolf.”

  “I haven’t,” said the wolf crossly. “Bother those ice-cream cornets! They always get all over you.” He put out a long wet red tongue and licked the moustache off. “Better?”

  “A little more to the left.”

  “Thanks,” said the wolf, and then, going back to his deep voice, he began again. “Look at me, Polly.”

  “I’m looking,” said Polly.

  “Look at me, Polly.”

  “I’m still looking.”

  “Look at me, Polly.”

  “I know!” Polly said, suddenly enlightened. She continued to stare at the wolf, without saying any more. Presently she winked, then she made a face, then she wiggled her scalp. At almost the same moment a fly, who had been buzzing round for some time, alighted on one of the wolf’s ears. Immediately both ears stood upright, twitched violently, and the wolf shook his head with something between a sneeze and a hiccup.

  Polly burst out laughing.

  “You win,” she said as soon as she could. “I can only wiggle the top of my head, but your ears are splendid. Let’s try again. Why what’s the matter, Wolf?”

  For the wolf, not looking at all pleased with his triumph, was tapping the ground angrily with his paw and scowling in her direction.

  “What do you think we’re doing, may I ask?” he demanded.

  “Playing who can laugh last. Aren’t we?” Polly asked, puzzled. “Why did you keep on telling me to look at you, like that, if we aren’t? And I laughed first, so you’ve won, and you needn’t look so annoyed about it.”

  “I wasn’t playing anything so childish,” the wolf said angrily. “I shouldn’t dream of partaking in such an infantile pastime. You don’t seem to realize, Polly, I’m giving you a chance of sharing a very interesting scientific experiment.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Trying out something new. Scientific. Science. You know.” The wolf waved his arms about to demonstrate science. “Steam engines, and wheels go round, and bombs, and what makes guinea pigs have no tails and that sort of thing.”

  “Oh,” said Polly, “but what has that to do with me?”

  “Well, I want you to do an experiment with me.”

  “But I don’t know anything about steam engines,” Polly said, “or bombs. And not much about guinea pigs,” she added.

  “It’s not about any of those, silly. It’s something much newer. It’s very fashionable, in fact. Have you never heard of Hypnosis?”

  “Is it a horse?” asked Polly. Her sister was interested in horses and Polly had heard many of their names.

  “It’s certainly not a horse. It’s a—well it’s a sort of a thing. I’ll explain. Some doctors can do what’s called hypnotize other people—it’s like putting them to sleep, so they don
’t know what they’re doing, and then the other person, the doctor who is doing the hypnotizing, can tell the person who’s asleep what to do, and she has to do it.”

  “It’s rather muddling,” Polly remarked.

  “No it isn’t,” the wolf said angrily. “It’s perfectly simple. Look, I hypnotize you and you sort of go to sleep and I tell you to go and walk into the pond and you have to.”

  “I should say ‘no’,” Polly protested.

  “You can’t. You’re asleep.”

  “But if I’m asleep why do I hear what you say?”

  “Because you’re hypnotized. And when you’re hypnotized you have to do whatever the hypnotist tells you, whether you like it or not. And now I’m going to hypnotize you,” the wolf said abruptly, and then in his deep voice, “Look at me, Polly.”

  “I’d rather look at the pond. I don’t think I want to be hypnotized, Wolf.”

  “Look at me, Polly.”

  “There’s a ship with red sails. I do like red sails. I like them much better than white.”

  “Look at me, Polly.”

  “Oh all right,” Polly said impatiently, “I’ll look if you want me to. Only do hurry up, and tell me when it’s over.”

  “Look at me, Polly—and don’t talk,” the wolf added in his natural voice.

  For several moments the wolf and Polly sat staring at each other from opposite ends of the bench. Neither of them moved and neither spoke.

  “You are feeling very sleepy, Polly!” said the wolf.

  “Yes, I am, rather,” Polly agreed. “I think it’s the sun. It’s really warm today—I expect it’s almost spring.”

  “You are feeling very sleepy, Polly,” said the wolf again.

  Polly did not answer.

  “You are asleep, Polly,” the wolf said, his voice deeper than ever.

  “Almost,” Polly said comfortably. She shut her eyes.

  “Now you are asleep,” the wolf said, leaning forward towards her. “You have to do everything I tell you. You won’t wake up till I tell you to. Now, listen carefully. Are you listening?”

  There was a short silence.

  “Are you listening?” the wolf said impatiently.

  Polly nodded sleepily.

  “Good. Now, Polly, after I’ve woken you up out of your hypnotic sleep, you are going to get up and walk down the road on the right, across the next little bit of heath until you come to the house on the corner where the two big elm trees have grown through the old wall. You turn along there and you go on till you come to the house with the green door and the shiny brass knocker, and you go in. That’s my house, Polly. The door won’t be locked and you just walk in, straight through the hall and into the kitchen at the end and—well I’ll meet you there.”

  The wolf’s voice died away into a loving whisper. Polly opened one eye.

  “And then what happens, Wolf?”

  “And then I eat you all up. Oh yes—I forgot to mention one thing—there won’t be any talk.”

  “No talk at all?”

  “Not a word. You just come in and I cook you and eat you up and there’s no argument. None of this ‘Wouldn’t you rather have this, Wolf?’ or ‘Do you think we’d better wait for a day or two?’ or anything like that. Do you understand, Polly?”

  “I understand, Wolf.”

  “Very well. Now, Polly,” said the wolf, in an artificially cheerful voice, “in a minute’s time from now you are going to wake up. You will feel very much refreshed, as if you had had eight hours of sound sleep. And after you’ve woken up you’re going to do what I told you.”

  “I’m awfully sleepy,” Polly said, stretching her arms and blinking at the sun.

  “But refreshed?”

  “I don’t notice it much yet,” Polly admitted. She stood up and started walking away from the pond.

  “Hi!” the wolf called after her. “That’s not the right direction. I said down the road on the right.”

  “I know,” said Polly. “But I think something must have gone wrong with the experiment. I heard everything you said, but I just don’t want to do it. I don’t feel any more like walking into your house and getting eaten up than I ever do.”

  “Didn’t you fall into a trance? Weren’t you properly asleep?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Polly said apologetically.

  “Bother, bother, bother, BOTHER,” said the wolf, “nothing ever goes right. And I’m sure I did all the things it said in the book! Wait a minute, let me think.”

  He sank his head between his paws and shut his eyes, concentrating. Polly began to move further away.

  “Don’t go,” the wolf pleaded, “wait just a second, Polly, I’ve remembered something. You have to look at a bright light till your eyes get tired and then we can start all the suggesting part of it.”

  Polly looked quickly around her. As lunchtime approached the crowd had thinned out, and there were now only a few people left round the pond. It would not be very funny, Polly reflected, to be left quite alone with a hungry wolf, whether he succeeded in hypnotizing her or not.

  “Please, Polly,” pleaded the wolf. “Just look at the sun for a minute or two and see if you don’t begin to feel sleepy and hypnotized.”

  “It’s very bad for you to look at the sun,” Polly protested. “My father says you can hurt your eyes very badly if you look straight at the sun for even a short time.”

  “Pooh,” said the wolf, “that may be true of poor weak human eyes, but we wolves can look at the sun for hours without it hurting us.”

  To prove his point he gazed straight into the sun.

  “Be careful, Wolf,” said Polly kindly after a short time, “don’t go and blind yourself just to prove that your eyes are stronger than mine.”

  “Your eyes are stronger than mine,” the wolf repeated in a far away sing-song voice. “Wolf! Do listen properly! I said, don’t be silly, stop looking at the sun and go home before you hurt yourself.”

  “Don’t be silly,” the wolf said, still in his faraway voice. “Stop looking at the sun.” He withdrew his eyes from the sky and fixed them on Polly, but obviously without seeing her at all. “Go home before I hurt myself.”

  He got up off the seat and began to walk in the direction of his house, but without taking any notice of where he was going. In another minute he would have walked straight into the pond, if Polly hadn’t caught him and guided him away from it.

  “Wolf! What is the matter with you? Are you asleep or something?”

  “Asleep or something,” the wolf said, nodding his head drowsily.

  “Oh, Wolf!” Polly cried, “I see! You’re the one who got hypnotized, because you would insist on looking at the sun. All right, now I’ll tell you what to do. Go home, Wolf, and have a nice vegetarian lunch—some biscuits and cheese and a lightly boiled egg. And then go to bed and have a long, long sleep and when you wake up you’ll feel very much refreshed and very obliging and not at all hungry. And don’t ever come and try to eat me all up again, do you understand? Never, never, never.”

  “Never,” repeated the wolf, and he sounded so sad that Polly, who really quite enjoyed having a wolf around to get the better of, said relentingly:

  “Well, not for a long time. And I’m clever, and you’re stupid, remember that!”

  “I’m clever and you’re stupid,” repeated the wolf dreamily as he took his way off, leaving Clever Polly wondering what sort of a wolf she would meet next time.

  5. The Deaf Wolf

  “IT’S A good idea,” the wolf said to himself, putting down the book of English fairy stories he had just been reading. “It’s very difficult getting Polly within snapping distance. It’s worth trying, anyway.”

  He looked again at the illustration of a fox with one paw behind his ear, pretending to be so deaf that the incautious gingerbread man talking to him would come nearer in order to make him hear.

  “I could do that easily,” the wolf thought. “I’ll put cotton wool in my ears. Then I really shan’t be able
to hear anything Polly says, and she’ll come right up to shout in my ear and I’ll just give one spring, like it says in the book and—”

  He lost himself in a happy dream.

  •

  Polly was in the garden, playing with Lucy. First Lucy wanted to swing; then she wanted to play ball; then she wanted to pick all her mother’s precious roses, and Polly could only divert her attention from this scheme by offering to give her rides on her back. She was on all fours, getting her knees and the skirt of her frock very green on the grass, and being half throttled by Lucy’s plump arms round her neck, when she heard a curious noise on the other side of the hedge.

  “A-harrup—a-harrup—a-harrup,” the noise said.

  “Horse!” said Lucy delightedly. She slid off Polly’s back and went to look through a special hole in the hedge, just the right height for her, which she had discovered a week or so ago.

  “It didn’t sound like a horse,” Polly said, getting up and stretching her cramped legs deliciously.

  “Not horse,” Lucy agreed. “No horse,” she added, rather disappointed as she still saw nothing in the road outside. “Polly horse again?” she asked persuasively.

  “No, Lucy, I really can’t,” Polly said. “I’m too tired.”

  “Lucy tired,” said Lucy, lying down full length on the grass to make sure she was understood.

  “All right. Let’s both be tired,” said Polly, thankfully lying down beside her.

  “I not tired,” Lucy said indignantly, getting up again immediately. “Sing ‘Oranges and Lemons’.”

  “A-harrack!” said a persistent voice beyond the hedge. A familiar black head rose above it and looked over into the garden.

  “Dog! Big dog!” said Lucy, delighted.

  “Good morning, Wolf,” said Polly politely.

  “Not as much as yesterday,” the wolf said in a gloomy voice.

  “I don’t quite understand,” Polly said. “I didn’t ask you about yesterday.”

  “But a bit more than the day before. It was one of those chops with nothing but gristle and bone,” the wolf explained.