Should I bother him?
Charlie hovered at the foot of the stairs. 'Should I?' he wondered. Willy had told Charlie that he should feel free to come to Willy at any time, but should he? Were Charlie's concerns really that important to the great chocolatier? Maybe Willy was just saying that. That didn't feel like Willy, but how did Charlie know for sure?
Charlie didn't want to bother the man. He was doing so much for Charlie's family already. Charlie's Mom had been fierce in her declaration that Charlie wasn't to pester the man. It was up to Willy to fetch Charlie, if Willy wanted to spend time with the boy. If Willy didn't turn up, Charlie was to take it as a sign that the older man was simply too busy to spend time with him. But Charlie longed to spend time with the man.
Sometimes a boy needed an older guy to talk to. That meant Mom was out. His Grandfathers? Charlie wrinkled his nose in disgust. He loved his grandparents, but they were all out of touch. Most of them hadn't made it out of bed since before Charlie was born. How could they offer reasoned advice about a world they simply couldn't understand anymore?
And Grandpa Joe... Charlie simply didn't trust him. Grandpa Joe didn't see anything wrong with stealing. Apparently, since they were so poor they were practically starving, they were entitled to take things they couldn't afford. Never mind the other poor people that might only just be scraping by. If you could take something from them, good on you. Charlie didn't want to take advice from someone whose moral compass (Charlie had come across the expression in school, and had liked it) said that was okay.
They had lived at the Factory for around three months now. Charlie didn't feel he knew anyone else well enough to talk things through with them. James still seemed scary: his Slugworth act simply too believable. The man had enjoyed the act, and that creeped Charlie out. The Oompa-Loompas seemed nice enough, but they were even less in touch with the outside world than Charlie's grandparents. And the people he knew from school... getting advice from them didn't bear thinking about.
That left Willy, and for all that Charlie wanted advice, he just wasn't sure that it was worth bothering Mr Wonka about this. It didn't matter that his school subjects had an impact on how he would cope working in the Factory in future, it didn't matter if his grades, and the way Mr Turkentine treated half the class as if they were worse than manure on his shoe, would impact on Charlie's future. Nor did the way everyone seemed to be trying to suggest that they were his best friend. Their expressions all seemed so fake.
Mom was right. Mr Wonka had too many other things on his mind to bother about the things that worried Charlie.
With a sigh, and scuffing feet, Charlie turned around, and began to shuffle away from the forbidden, and oh so tantalising staircase. He had barely gone three steps, when a well-known voice arrested his reluctant momentum.
"Charlie?" The question hung unanswered in the air. Charlie turned around, a sense of hesitancy cloaking his movements. How he longed to run to Willy, and pour his frustrations, and concerns, out to the man. But to do that was wrong. Now what should he do?
Willy walked down to the bottom of the stairs, and sat on one of the bottom steps. Patting the space beside him, Willy waited for Charlie to make his way over. The slow footsteps gave away the boy's reluctance.
When Charlie got close enough, Willy leaned forward, and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What's wrong Charlie?" Willy asked.
Charlie sighed, and looked down at the ground. A second passed, two, three. Then Charlie looked up again.
"I wanted to talk to you about school Mr Wonka. There are some things Mom, and my grandparents just cannot understand, but you might. But Mom has said I am not to bother you. I don't want to be a nuisance."
There was an air of desperation to the words. Willy looked at Charlie, his head was down, his chin practically resting on his chest, shoulders slumped.
Seeing the air of defeat and dejection surrounding the boy, Willy's eyes practically flashed. What right did that family have to tell his apprentice that bringing his, Charlie's, concerns to him, Willy, was to waste Willy's time? Did they not understand that unless a Factory emergency was taking place, there was nothing Willy placed higher priority on, than the things that concerned Charlie? As time went on, Charlie would become responsible for looking after people, and things, that Willy cared deeply about. It was only natural that Willy would want to play a part in Charlie's moral development. And those cretins wanted to deny Willy the opportunity?
"And what do you want, Charlie?"
Charlie sighed again. "I don't want to be a bother," the boy stated again, eyes focused on his shoes.
"And what if I were to say that you wouldn't be a bother?" Willy continued on, suppressed laughter being hinted at in his tones, as Charlie's head jerked up at that information, for all Willy attempted to suppress it.
Charlie glanced at the man suspiciously. There was nothing funny about Chalie wasting peoples time.
On seeing it, Willy sobered up immediately. "My apologies, Charlie. I find the mere idea that any time spent with you might be a waste so laughably incorrect, that I couldn't help but find the suggestion humorous." Charlie relaxed again.
"Oh!"
As the silence lengthened, Willy patted the space beside him again.
"Now, why don't you try me?" he suggested.
With another deep breath, Charlie found himself moving to sit next to the man. Maybe it would be okay to talk to him.
My thanks to everyone who followed, favourited, or commented on my last short story. As with any of my stories, anything you recognise from elsewhere probably doesn't belong to me. As far as this set of short stories goes, I currently have two chapters, each which can act as a stand-alone. They are based on the characters we got to know in my epic length A Chocolate Factory?, although they might not have happened in that particular world.