A/N: Last of the planned 1971 Willy Wonka stories; see my profile for the suggested order if you've missed previous postings.

Echoes of a Remembered Tune

"Remember, no playing mumblety-peg" Bob Wilkinson warned Charlie Bucket as he rubbed the scar on his left cheek. "Accidents can happen even though you're just playing for fun. If I had these glasses on I might not have hurt myself."

"I already told the Oompas I won't play that" Charlie assured Bob. "I'm sure we'll find something safe instead." He turned and left the office.

"He's a good kid" Sir Truus noted after Charlie had left. "He really gets along well with the Oompas, and they like him too. In fact they've adopted the whole family as one of their own. I think you really hit it on the head Willy; it's a great way to get them introduced to people, starting with Willy and then his family. I'm confident that even if he's playing, Charlie is learning from them too."

Willy Wonka smiled. "I knew it would go that way. Pretty sure. At least I hoped so. Those other people on the tour set bad enough examples; it was good to provide somebody else that contrasted their behavior." He sighed. "Charlie is a good pick, that's for sure. I think the factory will be in excellent hands when he takes over; he's had a few ideas about the factory that I think might just work out. I've been discussing them with him, and he'll present his ideas to you when he's confident they've been thought out enough. I've tried to impress upon him the importance of thinking through a decision." The three partners and friends sat in their accustomed chairs in the office.

"We didn't always do that" said Bob, shaking his head with a slight smile.

"No, that's my big weakness" Willy admitted. "I get all these ideas churning around in my head all the time, and when one separates itself from the others I grab it and run before it slips back into the jumble. Sort of like grabbing your favorite shirt out of a clothes dryer as you see it tumbling past; you have to grab it fast or it gets swallowed up by the other garments. That reminds me, I must remember to check my pockets for candy before I throw them into the laundry chute. I got scolded again for that this week." He shrugged.

"How long do you think it will be before he's given the key?" Sir asked. "Do I need to plan on my retirement?"

"Sir, you can retire any time that you want" Willy assured him. "We all will continue to own a minority stake in the factory, so there's no worry about income. Charlie gets along great with all of us 'uncles', and we can stay on as long as we like in whatever capacity we want. If you retire, it's because you'll want to rather than being forced out. I have it written in the contract, and I'm very good with contracts. Well, not really; they bore me after the first few sentences. But Prescott in legal translates everything I want into that special language. Dic mihi, quid ei opus est, et praebet." Willy was lost in thought for a moment. "Besides," he went on "both of you have kids that are growing up too. How many times have I almost had to kick you out to attend a school function?"

"We're worried for you, that's all" Sir replied.

"We've cut back and slowed down, but you haven't" Bob continued. "Don't you need to stop and smell the roses too?"

"I will" Willy assured them "just as soon as things slow down a bit. We've got the Oompas taken care of properly, Charlie is coming along, and I've got new products planned for next year."

"Yes, but you'll worry about how you're going to make those new products" Sir countered.

"...AND how you're going to market them" Bob added. "Don't try to fool us, we've been friends too long."

"You can never be friends too long" Willy said warmly with a smile. "At least I don't think so. Ask me again in a thousand years. In the meantime, I think I'll take a walk around the grounds." He stood up and stretched. "Clear my mind, maybe it'll give me ideas for new stuff." He patted both on the shoulder as he made his way out of the office.

"As if his mind could ever be cleared" Bob said, smirking.

"...or that he needs more ideas for new things" Sir added.

"I HEARD THAT!" Willy shouted from outside the room. He poked his head in the doorway. "It never hurts..."

"...to get a new idea" both partners finished. It was an old maxim, but one they adhered to in every endeavor they undertook.

...

Willy strolled along a street between several of the buildings that were the factory complex of his chocolate empire. It contained manufacturing, warehousing, maintenance, housing, commissary, and all the things that a small community could need. In the distance he could see the central park that was a nexus for outdoor recreation for the Oompas. Today it looked like they had set up some sort of obstacle course; he could see Charlie running through, being cheered on by his grandfather Joe and his other grandparents. The other grandparents had been wheeled out in chairs in order to get some sunshine and fresh air. His mother was absent; probably insisting on supervising the housekeeping, even though no work was required of her. But old habits die hard, and she insisted on working to help out with staff. Charlie came by his willingness to work from a good example.

The whole park was covered in a series of lightweight canopies stretching between surrounding poles. Although the secret of the Oompas was technically out now, no one else had seen them but the people on the tour. In fact the stories of the four kids and their parents were so fantastic that they were dismissed as a made up cover story concocted by Willy himself. Many felt that the tour invitees had been paid off to keep their silence on real trade secrets, not some fantasy of small orange folk singing and dancing for a depraved mad man. But it still wasn't time to bring the outside world and the Oompas together yet; that was going to take a bit longer, so Willy still kept them from possible surveillance.

Willy continued to stroll, thinking of nothing and everything at the same time. An Oompa walked up. "Logistics says we're going to be short 5% of demand in Italy this quarter" he said, handing a paper to Willy.

Willy barely even glanced at the paper; his people knew their jobs better than he did. "Okay Silver, shift 1% from Greece and Spain. We'll introduce the Wonkapuffs in Italy only, which will shift enough of the demand to the new product to make up the rest of the difference."

"Right, Boss; will do." Silver flashed a smile with a silver tooth.

Willy paused and held up his hand. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Silver strained his ears. "People laughing in the park?"

"No, I meant music."

"I don't hear any music right now. Would you like some played on the P.A. system?" Oompas loved music, and could hear a tune a mile away if the conditions were right.

"No," Willy said "I just thought I heard some. It's gone now. Maybe the ice cream truck is making its rounds." The factory had its own ice cream truck that made rounds during certain parts of the day.

Silver looked at his watch. "It's a little early, maybe it came from a truck outside the gates. I'm off to get those changes rolling." He turned and left to relay the orders.

Willy continued on and stopped in at the small library. It contained books both in English and Oompaspeak; he believed that they should keep their native language alive for the sake of their culture. Very few books had been available in their native tongue; Willy had found two workers with a facility for language and put them on translating some of the more popular works into their native tongue, after which it would be made into a bound edition. He spoke with the librarian about an idea he had.

"It would have to be a small newspaper" Amaieu said after a bit of thought. "It's too much work to translate the whole paper every day. Maybe just a summary of the biggest items on one page" she said. Her name was an approximation of her Oompa name; Willy still had a hard time with it, never knowing when to add or subtract vowels, and usually just called her Pagemaster.

"That might work" Willy said. "If we could make the page edible, then we'd get rid of the disposal problem too. You could read the news and have desert afterward. I think that Sam over in…do you hear that?" He turned around slowly, straining to listen."

"Yes, of course I heard you. You want Sam over in development to work on edible pages."

"No, I mean music."

Amaieu listened for a moment. "I don't hear anything. Maybe someone turned on a radio somewhere for a moment."

"It was very faint, but it's gone now. My thanks to the Pagemaster; I'll be on my way" he said with a bow. Amaieu giggled at the formality, but she wasn't fooled because she knew Willy's difficulty with her name. Willy left the library.

He eventually found his way to the main iron gate, site of so much hoopla two years before. The name WONKA was still emblazoned across the top, and the gate was still locked. To the world, this was Wonka; secluded, secret, sequestered and a whole bunch of other words that didn't begin with the letter S. But it was a two-way gate; while keeping the world out, it also kept Willy in. He wasn't a prisoner, not in the sense that he couldn't leave if the mood struck; it was just that the mood didn't strike. A part of Willy, deep down inside, was still that boy on the streets in a grey neighborhood with a couple of friends and some vague dreams with a whole world calling; a much larger part found safety and comfort being away from that world. He turned around and looked at his factory, at least what he could see of it. The cobbled street ran off and around a corner, winding through a small village of his making.

Wonkatown. Wonka City. Wonkaville. It didn't matter, he never named it and just thought of it as home. Just a place where…

There was that music again.

He spun around and scanned up and down the street. Finally, across and fifty feet down to the left he saw a somber middle-aged woman on a bench. Blonde, straight hair fell over a light cloth coat, with a scarf draped down her front. A flowered bag sat beside her, with what appeared to be skeins of yarn and knitting needles. But no knitting was in her hand; she was playing a flute.

Willy was intrigued. He toyed with the idea of actually keying in the combination to unlock the gate and walk through; he even put his hand over the controls, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and turned away. He started walking back to the automatic front door and he noticed the trick stone that he had stuck his cane in during his entrance for the tour. He toed the fake stone, which gave under the weight. His ear picked up a change in the music, and the tune became one he hummed along with, although he couldn't quite place it. He suspected it was Bach. On a sudden impulse he turned again and strode over to the lock and keyed it open, and stepped through before he could change his mind.

Outside the gate he felt different. Vulnerable, exposed, and just a little disoriented he kept the panic down and crossed the street, keeping in mind where the gate was the whole time. He approached the woman on the bench.

"Excuse me, was that Bach?" he asked.

"No, Bach couldn't make it today. It was me" she replied.

"You play very well. I thought that I heard that song earlier, but no one else did so I just figured it was in my head."

"It was in your head. It went in through those little holes you call ears, silly. I play it sometimes for fun between all the other songs. So many songs are serious you know, you just have to throw some fun in sometimes."

"Yes, I've always thought so." Willy put on an exaggerated serious face as he pretended to play a piano. "Oh dear, I hope I don't hit a wrong note!" he fretted.

The woman laughed. "Please, don't do the worried face. It doesn't become you."

Willy took his hands away from the imaginary keyboard and brightened. "Okay, no more worried face…Penny."

The woman gasped and dropped the flute that was being held in her hands. She fumbled to catch it, only knocking it completely out of her reach. Willy snatched it out of the air and returned it to her hands. "You know who I am?" she asked quietly.

"Of course. Not at first; I really should have recognized the 'Movers Deluxe' march even though you've changed it, but it's been so long I was humming along without realizing it. But the laugh was what triggered everything, and then when you said a worried face doesn't become me I was certain. You told me that before, so very, very long ago. God it seems ages. I suppose it was."

"An age of ages. Did you keep practicing the flute?" she asked.

Willy pulled out his whistle. "I use these; I keep misplacing them so I buy them by the dozen. Don't worry, the flute is safely inside a glass case in my office. I was keeping it safe for when you returned so you could have it back." He took a breath and played a short scale. "It's been awhile, but let me see…" he continued, as he replaced the whistle to his mouth. With only a few mistakes, he reproduced the march Penny had been playing. She picked up her flute and together they played the tune again; Willy playing the melody and Penny playing harmony or a counter melody as needed. Their music wove together, the two sources swirling around as one and darting off in whatever direction the slight breeze took them as the sum of their efforts exceeded the individual parts.

Afterward she nodded in appreciation. "Good job Willy, I knew you would get better. I could feel that the music was inside you."

"Yes, but it took a while to convince my fingers to let it out" Willy grinned. "I was banished from practicing in my house for some time."

"Maybe you could do the Pied Piper in reverse; drive away the mice with your playing" she jested.

"But then they'd just figure out how to wear ear plugs and we'd be back to ground zero."

They both laughed. Willy stopped, but he noticed Penny continued for a lot longer than seemed appropriate for the joke. After her laugh subsided, Willy asked "So...tell me, what did you end up doing?" as he sat on the bench.

"Life, or something much like it anyway. I went back to mum and school, the same old routine. But I didn't forget the time we spent together, with Bob and Sir…wait, do you still work together? I thought I might have seen Bob on TV when they were announcing the golden ticket winners, but I wasn't sure."

"We still work together. They got married to wonderful people and have their own children now. You probably did see Bob on TV, in the background; he was doing a little undercover work for me during the contest. Sir is still inventing things too, in that special workshop of his. I've gotten them to spend more time with their families so they won't miss things while their kids grow up. If you'd like maybe you can visit later. But back to your story."

"I don't think of it as a story really. I went back to school and my old friends, and I practiced my music. I got older, and started dating until I met a boy named Justin Hawk. He was nicer to me than the other boys were, so we spent a lot of time together. He wanted to travel the world, and talked about places I'd never heard of before. He said we could find a way to do it together, and I thought that was the best offer I'd ever have again. We got married, and started a flower shop called Gala Spectrum. Have you heard of it?"

"No, but I like the name. It just oozes of happy colors and combinations and scents. So you became a Hudson-Hawk?"

"Yeah. But that's exactly why I picked the name for the shop, because that's how I felt I could change the world. Funny, you wanted to make things to eat and taste and I wanted people to see and smell. But we started our shop, and right away people liked what we did. We opened a second shop, and things started to get busy. Justin and I would try to get away on trips to see new types of flowers, but often I'd be stuck working on some big wedding or retirement dinner and he'd have to go alone. Then I slipped in a puddle of water in the shop and broke my leg; while I was healing from that I got pregnant. I went back to the shop and only stopped for our daughter Claire to be born. It's funny; our paths almost crossed a few times."

"Really? How?"

"Well, you did an interview for the Times before you opened your fruitcake business."

Willy pretended to hide his face. "That fruitcake idea was a fiasco."

"Oh no, you learned from it. And you still have the bakery business today. But our interview article was the month following yours. And after we opened our second shop, we had to hire out a business to take away the trimmings and old flowers. Guess who we called?"

"Movers' Deluxe?"

"Yup. I never did try your Brussel sprouts products…"

"Not many did."

"…but I still buy your frozen vegetable line that you added. I'm not crazy about the lima beans in the medley, but they're still good. Anyway, that wasn't the last time. Justin actually went to Loompaland to look at the flowers there. Others may not believe in the place, but I sure do after hearing his description."

"I went there too! It's the only time I've been off the grounds in ages."

"I thought you might have. You don't hear a lot about Willy Wonka, but you hear a lot about what he does. I mean you do. I mean…"

"I don't get out much, I guess. So how's your family now?"

"My mum's passed on, but Claire is twelve now. She's the best, an absolute charmer" Penny beamed with pride.

"No more kids, just the three of you?"

"Well, two actually. On one of his trips Justin started making friends with a stewardess he kept bumping into on flights. Things kind of progressed and now he's traveling the world with her. He left me the flower business out of guilt I think, since his heart was never in it to begin with; he was just using it as a means to travel. It wasn't easy at first, but I threw myself into the work and it helped; I'm sorry to say I don't miss him as much as I thought I would. So I come here every few weeks and sit and think about old times. Too bad I don't have that wonderful silly fountain to look at."

"I actually have the original on the factory grounds; I had a different one put in its place when I moved here. It's in a private park; would you like to see it?"

"Oh, please!"

"Follow me." Willy got up and picked up Penny's bag, while she followed behind. They crossed the street and went through the gate as they walked toward the park. Willy filled her in on details that the papers might have skipped.

"…and they're just the greatest workers a person could ever hope for, let me say. They helped me launch the candy whistle line too. I was going to call them 'Penny Whistles', but the name was already taken of course. So I ended up with 'Penny Tweets' instead; maybe you can guess why I picked the name. The trick was getting them made consistently so that they were all in tune" Willy said as they reached the park. Everyone else had gone, but Willy still led her over to the fountain she had seen so many years ago. Willy gestured toward a tree. "If you sit right there, it's the perfect spot to see the fountain." While Penny sat and leaned her back against the tree, Willy grabbed a bucket from the base and put water into it. Penny clapped as the water began to flow down well established rivulets. Penny patted the ground beside her.

"There's an ant hole there I think, so I'll sit on this side" Willy said as he sat on her other side. "Oh, how I miss this" he said. The water ran down as they watched. "So, you must know about Charlie then."

"The boy that won the contest, yes. He was supposed to get a lifetime supply of chocolate, but he and his family disappeared."

"Not disappeared, just moved. He and his family live here now. I'm giving the factory to Charlie when he gets a little older."

"The whole factory? Why?" Penny asked.

"I explained it to him, but I think he's not old enough to understand yet. I can't, and don't want to do this forever. It takes a lot of work to run everything and take care of the Oompas. Even with Sir and Bob and Pagemaster and Silver and Prescott and a dozen like them it just gets to be so draining. I don't have any family of my own, and I needed to pass it on to someone who understands how to do it the proper way. Charlie is that sort, I know he is. He doesn't have a lot of ideas, but he can hire someone else for that. I'll still own a small part of it with Sir and Bob and probably contribute ideas until the day I die, but I have to pass the torch on to someone else. Everyone will be taken care of, I've seen to that. Sir gets the moving business, Bob has the bakery and frozen foods, and Charlie has the factory." Willy started rubbing his eyes and temples. "They took care of me, and I'll take care of them."

"The stories the people who went on the tour told said you were a mad man. I didn't see how the boy I knew could be that now, so I thought they must have made it up."

"I never heard what they said, so I can't say. I'm sure I came off like one at times, but I was doing it on purpose. It was part of the test you see, and I wanted to see how the kids reacted to my behavior. There's a lot of stress involved in running the factory; I'm afraid I might have thrown them in the deep end, so to speak, when I got carried away with the act. I needed someone who might be afraid, but would soldier on regardless. I needed to find the right sort of kid." Willy yawned.

"Why didn't you find anyone, Willy?"

"I found people. I've got the best friends and partners a man could hope for. And Charlie is a gem." Willy yawned again. "Sorry, you'd think after I've spent so many nights with two hours of sleep I'd get used to it by now."

"No, I mean a girl."

"I did find one, but it didn't work out." Willy was practically tilting from fatigue, wavering slightly. The hypnotic sound and sight of the waterfall was having an effect, along with the warm weather and slight breeze. The company certainly helped too.

"Did she leave you?"

"Yes, but it wasn't her fault." He closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate and fell over, his head in her lap. His eyes flew open with an embarrassed "Sorry, help me up."

"No, it's okay." She took his hat and set it aside, away from the ant hole. "Now you were saying?"

"Umm, let me think…oh, yeah she left me because she had to move away. You would have liked her. She was a brunette and almost too thin, but otherwise a lot like you in everything that's important." He smiled.

"I knew a girl like that years ago" Penny said, getting sad. "That was before life came along."

"It's still you. It doesn't matter how much you change your hair color or make it straight, or are a few inches taller or a few inches wider, it will still be you. Inside you're the same Penny you always were, and the Penelope Hudson-Hawk you are now. You see the world and try to change it for the better; isn't that what we talked about so many lifetimes ago?" He yawned.

"Yes. Except now I'm the one that's sad and you're the one trying to cheer me up" she said, a tear running down her cheek. "We've come full circle, my friend."

"I don't want to make you sad at all. Funny. I never thought it would ever be like this. We had the same type of dream, and went about it with completely different experiences to realize it. When was the happiest you ever were?" He yawned again. "Sorry. You were about to say?"

"No question about it, the summer I spent with you and Bob and Sir." She began to stroke his hair lightly, watching for any sign of rejection. "My daughter's birth was happy too, but in a different way. Apples and oranges I suppose."

Willy began to talk in a slower, more relaxed manner. "Really? Odd, because I'd answer the question the same way. I've had a lot of...satisfaction with the direction of my life with what I've been able to do, but it isn't happiness as such. I think being happy is being comfortable and at peace. I haven't known peace for some time. I wish I had some I could share with you." He settled his head more firmly in her lap.

"And why can't you?"

"I don't know if I'm cut out for it. You deserve it, sure; but I've always had a million things to do, and finding comfort with a woman never got to the top of the list. I'm not against the idea mind you, but I wouldn't even know how to start now. It's years too late. And I never learned to play the right tune to bring you back."

"Silly boy, it wasn't a tune you play with an instrument. It's a tune your heart plays; it's always been there, but you have to learn that it's a duet." Penny wasn't planning on saying even this much, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Let me put it this way: Are you comfortable now?"

"Yes," he smiled lazily "very much so. My mind is so...calm. It's strange. I hope I'm not getting sick."

"And are you with a woman?"

"Oh, I'll say. The best kind. Except for the tears" he said as he lifted his hand with great effort and wiped one away from her face.

"Congratulations then, we made it to the top of that list now that you've learned the first part of the song" she said, sniffling. "Everything else will take care of itself. It has to, it simply has to" she trailed off.

Willy closed his eyes. "Will it? Good. As I always say, so much time…" but he didn't finish the sentence as he fell into a peaceful slumber.

The End

A/N: Huh. Never thought I'd ever write this many stories based on one movie, much less a movie of which I don't even own a copy. But this should put a wrap on the 1971 based Willy Wonka series, at least for the foreseeable future. Thanks to those who have read through them, and greater thanks to those who have enjoyed them and marked them as a favorite. Of course greatest thanks go to the kind reviews in the past. If I had been blasted after the first story I never would have written any of the others I suppose. I apologize for any inconsistencies between stories; my snapshot method has been a little random and does lead to discrepancies now and then.

Is there hope for Willy and Penny? Look up the relationship between C.S. Lewis and Joy Davidman.

And in a last moment of literary symmetry, Willy starts the first story and ends the last story without his signature hat.