A.N. For my timeline, I'm going to assume that it takes two weeks for the house to be moved into the factory. And that the dinner at the end of the film takes place about two months after Willy Wonka and Charlie visit Wilbur Wonka.
An Apology, Or Two, Or Three
Set after Willy Wonka and Charlie visit Wilbur Wonka but before the Bucket house is moved into the factory.
Willy Wonka hadn't said a word as they'd left the solitary house of Wilbur Wonka and Charlie was beginning to worry. They were soaring high above the snow covered ground as they approached the town in the Great Glass Elevator.
"Are you alright?" he asked, peering up to see that Willy had a confused expression on his pale face.
"Fine," the chocolatier replied quickly.
"...Where are we going?" Charlie asked.
"Well, I'm going back to the factory...and I guess I should take you home," the man answered. "Unless...maybe you've changed your mind?" he asked, almost hopefully.
"I won't leave my family."
"I did."
"...I couldn't."
"It's easy. Just walk out the door and don't look back," Willy assured him despite the fact that he'd very clearly looked back enough to know just where his father's house was.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wonka," Charlie replied and the chocolatier sighed.
"Doesn't make any sense," he shook his head, muttering to himself, "Still don't get it."
"...I think you do," the boy guessed.
"Don't," Willy retorted, childishly.
"Your dad didn't seem so bad," Charlie said. While it was true that Dr. Wonka was perhaps slightly intimidating, but Charlie had only seen a man that had truly missed his son.
"Yeah," the man scoffed, "Well, we didn't talk about chocolate. He really hates that stuff."
"Didn't you see what was on the wall? It was all about the factory...newspaper articles...about you. I just think he really missed you."
"...Not like he didn't know where I was..."
"But...you knew where he was, too?"
"...Maybe," Willy admitted. "But he moved the whole house, y'know?! Just...ripped it right outta the street and dropped it there on the hill. He said he wasn't gonna be there when I got back and he meant it."
"What'd you mean?" Charlie asked, confused.
"When I left...he was really angry," the man shuddered. "I'd been keeping notes...about candy...and he found 'em. So I told him I wanted to be a chocolatier and he said 'no way'. So I was gonna run away and he said he wouldn't be there when I came back...I was only gone for like a few hours...didn't really get far. When I got back the whole house was gone."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh...it was just...gone," Willy muttered and then, a second later, put on one of his best smiles. "Better off without him anyway," he said. "What's that look for?" the man asked, furrowing his brow when Charlie didn't smile back at him. In fact, he noticed that the boy looked rather sad.
"You missed him, too," Charlie stated.
"Did not," the man retorted, looking out over the town. He could see Charlie's ramshackle little house now and he sighed. "You really sure you won't..."
"I'm sure."
"But I thought you liked the factory."
"I love the factory," Charlie said, "But I love my family too and I could never leave them behind."
"...Okay," Willy sighed heavily, "Okay, then."
After another few minutes of silence, the Great Glass Elevator landed a few metres away from the Bucket house and the doors opened. "Bye," the man muttered as Charlie stepped outside.
"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie began, turning back to face the despondent chocolatier who was leaning heavily on his cane.
"Hmm?" he raised an eyebrow, slightly.
"Will you see your dad again?"
"Don't know...maybe."
"I think you should."
"Y'do?" he asked and Charlie nodded. "...Maybe it wasn't so bad," he mumbled. "Hey..." the man began suddenly with a renewed sense of energy as he stepped forwards, standing just outside of the Great Glass Elevator now. "Would your...would they," he gestured to the house, "Would they ever say you can't be something you wanted to be?"
"No," Charlie answered, honestly.
"Even if you picked something they didn't like?"
"Even then."
"Really?"
"Really," the boy nodded.
"...Wow," Willy frowned. "But my...but he...he said I couldn't be..." he stammered.
"He shouldn't have said that," Charlie said, "If that's what you really wanted to do. But maybe he thought he was doing what best for you," he explained but Willy scoffed loudly at him. "That's usually what parents do," he said.
"Yeah...that did those other kids a lot of good, didn't it?" the man grumbled. "A spoiled little brat, a kid who couldn't stop eating, a know it all and a compulsive winner. Great job, people!"
"So...what am I, then?" Charlie asked, curious.
"You're...weird," the chocolatier stated, blinking behind his google-like sunglasses.
Being told so blatantly by Willy Wonka that you were 'weird' was rather surreal since the man himself was so strange but it only made Charlie smile, which in turn, made Willy smile too. "But that's okay," the man added, "'Cause there's worse things than being weird...like being boring...or being like everyone else," he shuddered.
Just as Charlie was about to speak again, the door to the Bucket house opened to reveal his parents standing there. His mother wearing her apron and holding a mixing bowl in her hands with her husband by her side. It was a picture perfect image of home, despite the ramshackle appearance of poverty, with the light from the fire shining from the corner and the grandparents sitting at the table. It was everything that Willy Wonka had left behind and had recently come to miss, even if his father had never been the warm and cuddly sort like the Buckets seemed to be. Maybe Charlie was right and families weren't so bad after all.
"You really love 'em, don't you?" he asked quietly.
"Of course I do, they're my family," Charlie answered.
"And you'd never leave 'em."
"No."
"Well...what if...you didn't have to, then?"
Willy Wonka stepped out of the Bucket house and onto the cold, snow covered street where the Great Glass Elevator was waiting for him. Another awkward conversation had ensued when Charlie explained his new idea that the boy didn't have to leave his family behind after all while Willy himself sat rather stiffly at the table in silence. When it was finally over, Willy had given them one of his best fake smiles, grabbed his hat and his overcoat and hightailed it out of the house as fast as he could. There was only so much of 'families' he could take in one day. He'd have to acclimatise himself he supposed.
"Mr. Wonka?" Mrs. Bucket and her husband stepped outside of the house after him, closing the door as they did. "We were just about to have dinner...maybe you could stay a while?" she suggested, kindly.
"I...I really should be getting back," Willy shook his head as he stood in front of the Great Glass Elevator, not turning around to face them.
"It'd make Charlie happy," she ventured.
"...Maybe some other time," he said.
"Okay," she nodded. "Another time, then," she smiled.
He pressed the button to open the doors but once they'd opened, he didn't step into the elevator. He remained with his back to the two Buckets behind him as he remarked suddenly, "I really am sorry, y'know."
"For what?" Mrs. Bucket asked.
"For...breaking your roof?" Willy replied, making it sound more like an uncertain question rather than an answer.
"Well, you didn't break it this time," she replied.
"Figured I probably shouldn't. And I got better at driving the Great Glass outside...so..."
"You could just drive a car," Mr. Bucket suggested.
"A car? That's boring," Willy shuddered at the thought and the other man scoffed, "I'll stick with the Great Glass Elevator, thanks," he said, "It took forever to make this thing fly, y'know."
"Why an elevator?" Mrs. Bucket asked, suddenly curious, "Why make it fly in the first place?"
"Why not an elevator?" Willy replied, simply and she smiled as he finally turned around to face them.
"So...just to clarify," she began after a moment, "We're not an 'old dead goose' anymore?" she asked.
"Erm...I'm, erm...sorry 'bout that, too," Willy pursed his lip, childishly.
"Been called worse," she shrugged.
"Yeah...me too," the chocolatier muttered, mostly to himself, but they heard him anyway.
"Were you really serious? About letting us live in the factory? We don't have to," she replied. "Neither does Charlie. I mean, I wouldn't dream of telling him he can't be your...apprentice...god knows he wants to and he deserves it, but..."
"You don't want to?" Willy asked, tilting his head.
"It doesn't matter what we want, it matters what Charlie wants and I know he wants this. He loves the factory...even before he went in, he loved it."
"Yeah?" Willy asked, hopefully, and they nodded.
"We might not have a lot of money, or a...a big house...but it's ours. We're doing better now but we're not some kind of charity case," Mr. Bucket said and his wife put a hand on his shoulder.
"A what?" the man frowned.
"A charity case. If you've only changed your mind because we don't really have much..."
"Oh!" Willy exclaimed in understanding, his eyes widening. "Oh, I get it," he smiled, proud at himself for understanding. But his smile quickly faded when he saw that they weren't smiling too. "I mean...right, yeah, of course, I get it. But erm...if that's what it was...wouldn't I just give you money or something so you could move? It's not like I couldn't give you money if you wanted it. I don't really keep track of that stuff but I'm pretty sure I'm doing okay. Y'know, come to think of it, I don't really remember where I left my cheque book..." he frowned, searching the pockets of his warm, black overcoat and then his frock coat. "But I'm sure I have one somewhere...Doris'd know, she usually does all of the..."
"We don't want money."
"Oh, yeah. Not a 'charity case', right," he stopped his frantic search for the little book that he only vaguely remembered and turned his attention back to the Buckets with a sigh. "Look...it's not that. It's just...maybe you guys aren't so bad after all," he said.
"Thanks, I think," Mrs. Bucket laughed, unsure.
"What if we move into the factory and you change your mind?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"...I won't."
"You might."
"I said I won't."
"But you..."
"I said, I won't, okay?!" Willy exclaimed and stabbed at the snow at his feet with his cane. "Sorry. I'm just not really used to...to..." he swallowed, the word refusing to come out.
"Parents?" Mrs. Bucket said for him.
"Yeah. I just gotta get used to..them...again, I guess."
"Charlie says you went to see your dad today," she said.
"...Yeah," the man muttered, vaguely recalling the conversation between Charlie and his family. In truth he'd really been thinking about a new recipe for the Exploding Candy.
"He said you hadn't seen him in a while. How long's it been since you saw him?"
"Erm...maybe like thirty years...thirty five...not sure, really."
Neither of the two people standing before him could imagine not seeing their parents for even a day let alone three decades. They were a very close family despite their troubles, even perhaps, because of them.
"How'd it go?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"...Okay," Willy replied, in a poor attempt at aloofness.
"That's good," Mrs. Bucket replied, seeing that the man was nervous just thinking about his father.
"...Yeah..."
With nothing more to say, the chocolatier finally stepped into the Great Glass Elevator but frowned when he saw Mrs. Bucket shiver a little. They had been standing outside for a good few minutes and she hadn't put on a coat, so obviously she was cold.
"Y'know...it's warm in the factory," he told them. "Move in today if you want," he said, making a point to stare at the door right behind the couple rather than at their eyes.
"Tomorrow," Mrs. Bucket said, after a glance at her husband who nodded.
"...Okay," Willy nodded. "But, hey, I know just what you need," the chocolatier announced, "I'll send you some Hot Ice Cream...or...I guess I could send you some more...wood?" he asked, unsure suddenly.
"Hot Ice Cream?" the other man asked.
"Well, it's ice cream for cold days. Makes you warm instead of cold. You'll love it."
"Hot Ice Cream sounds good," Mr. Bucket smiled.
"Great!" the other man beamed, happily. "Ten minutes, I'll send a truck," he said before pressing a button. The elevator doors closed and the jet powered engines blew up the snow around them as it took to the air.
"...He doesn't mean a whole truck full of ice cream...does he?" she asked once the elevator was gone. "Oh, surely not," she shook her head, turning back to the house leaving her husband staring after the chocolatier as he flew back to the factory.
Meanwhile, Charlie, watching and listening from his bedroom in the rafters, where his parents had very kindly left an opening so that he could see out at the factory, was certain that Willy Wonka had meant a whole truck full of ice cream.
And ten minutes later, he was proven correct as they were left staring at a ridiculous amount of Hot Ice Cream left with a small note signed with a calligraphic 'W' at the bottom.
'I had to send every flavour since I didn't know which ones you'd want. Don't worry if some of it melts, we can un-melt it. Just make sure to bring it back to the factory with you tomorrow.'
"Un-melt ice cream?" Grandpa George exclaimed once his son had read the note aloud. "The man's mad," he shook his head.
"Well, it's Hot Ice Cream," Grandpa Joe shrugged simply and opened the first small carton of ice cream with an eager smile. "You'd have to be mad to make up something like that in the first place so why can't he un-melt it?" he asked, picking up a spoon.
