"Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three." Em heard the chocolatier's voice wash over them as they entered the new room slowly, eyes wide, mouths agape.
They were stood on the edge of what appeared to be a meadow, the grass greener than anything Em had ever seen. Trees stood calmly, no calming breeze to rustle their delicate leaves. Flowers of every kind, in their bright summery bloom, were dotted throughout the field like specks of paint on a canvas. Giant toadstools stood proud, their red and white spots vibrant and just waiting to be sat on, perfect for a magical tea party. There was the sound of running water in the distance, hypnotic and calming as paths snaked their way all around the room.
"I – I thought you said everything was edible?" Em queried, glancing at the back of the man's head in confusion.
He turned to her and gave her a quick grin.
"Take a closer look, my dear." He took a step forward and turned to face the rest of the group who were huddled together, almost too scared to touch anything. "I've never shown this room to anyone before," he divulged, "you're the first to see it."
Em felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction at this – the things people would give to have a glimpse of this.
"Everything you see: every tree, every flower, is made completely and entirely out of chocolate," he announced, proudly.
"Em," gawked Charlie, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like … it's like some kind of edible dream." His eyes bulged and Em could only nod.
Almost as if a spell were broken, the children dispersed immediately. Augustus, leading the mob, had his hands outstretched, his chubby fingers ready to grab the first thing they made contact with as Veruca sprinted over a small bridge and out of sight.
Mr. Wonka led the adults down a small path, Em and Charlie following slowly behind, taking in every sweet sight the room had to offer.
"So, Wonka," Mr. Salt said, suddenly business-like. "What's the point in all this stuff?" It was clear from his tone that he was not impressed by the chocolate marvel.
"The point?" Mr. Wonka paused and looked around, baffled.
"Well, what's it for?" elaborated Mr. Salt, quickly becoming annoyed.
"It's my creation," smiled Mr. Wonka, turning to continue his stroll.
Mr. Salt let out a short laugh before venturing further.
"But how does it make money?"
It was Mr. Wonka's turn to laugh and Em was alarmed to note it sent a tingle of warmth down her spine as he did so.
"It doesn't," he replied, happily, clearly enjoying Mr. Salt's sense of humour.
"It's a little cupboard of treats for a midnight snack?" guessed Mrs. Gloop, her eyes drinking in the rows of chocolate tree trunks.
"No, Madam." Mr. Wonka shook his head, ludicrously. Em could sense he was becoming uncomfortable, as was she. Why couldn't they just appreciate it for what it was?
"You use it to relax?" questioned Mrs. Beauregarde, taking a tottery, high heeled step towards Mr. Wonka
"Not at all." Em, despite herself, was relieved to see him take a tiny step away from the advancing woman.
"Well, if it isn't for anything and it doesn't make any money, then why on earth does it need to exist at all?" Mr. Salt finished, looking around baffled.
That was the last straw. Em, convinced she'd seen a tiny spark of panic light up Mr. Wonka's eyes, spoke up.
"You really don't see, do you?"
The group turned to face her – she even sensed Charlie looking up at her – surprised at the sudden interruption. She regretted her outburst instantly.
"See what?" quizzed Mr. Salt.
"All I mean is," Em thought quickly, searching for the right words, "it exists because it's beautiful. It doesn't need a reason. We should just be amazed something like this has been created."
Mr. Wonka gave her the biggest smile as he relaxed and she felt a warm glow settle in her stomach. Maybe it was a good thing she'd spoken up after all. Then again, looking at the bemused faces of the rest of the group, perhaps she should have stayed quiet…
"Ridiculous," tutted Mr. Salt, turning on his heel and heading back up the path after his daughter.
"Michael, play nice now!" Mrs. Teevee hollered, spotting her son pummeling a large gumdrop viciously.
"Em, are we allowed to go anywhere?" questioned Charlie, unwilling to explore without permission.
"I'll ask," she assured. "Mr. Wonka?" she called hesitantly, not wanting to bother the man.
"Ms. Bucket?" he looked over, pausing in his conversation with Mrs. Beauregarde, eyebrow slightly raised.
"Are we – can we –" she stuttered as Mrs. Beauregarde shot her a dirty look.
"Please, explore to your heart's content," he grinned. "In fact, I can give you a tour, if you'd like?" He made to take a step towards them but Mrs. Beauregarde placed a hand eagerly on his arm.
"Oh, that would be fantastic!" she squealed.
Em felt her heart deflate as she forced a polite smile onto her face.
"We're happy to adventure on our own, thank you, Mr. Wonka."
She gave him a polite nod and turned, heading up the path, Charlie following close behind her.
"What'd you do that for?" questioned Charlie as they reached a fork in the path. "I thought you liked –"
"Oh shh," she implored. "I thought we could have a bit more fun on our own." She gave him a playful shove, which he returned with enthusiasm.
As they continued to wander, they came across a small alcove surrounded by chocolate trees coated with liquorish vines, the ground covered with delicate chocolate-toffee buttercups.
"Em!" cried Charlie in awe, bending down and plucking up a fistful of grass, "it's mint choc-chip!"
She grabbed a pinch of her own and popped it in her mouth, the menthol melting deliciously on her tongue.
"And these flowers are white chocolate, and those vines are liquorish," he gushed excitedly, "and look at those branches!" He pointed overhead and Em followed his gaze.
"Candy canes!" she whooped, reaching up and snapping two of the larger branches carefully, throwing one to her brother.
"En garde!" she challenged, playfully.
They were instantly locked in an epic battle. It may have looked innocent enough to a bystander, but it was a deadly fight to the death. Charlie took a heavy lunge forward and Em was forced to do a quick sidestep to avoid being impaled, unfortunately loosing her footing as she did so.
She took a small tumble down one of the banks, landing rather unceremoniously in a patch of daffodils, her candy cane sword emitting a sickening crunch.
"Em!" Charlie's head appeared at the top of the bank, "are you okay?"
"No," she moaned, "I think I broke something."
At her brother's terrified expression, she relented and held up her snapped candy cane.
"Truce?" she laughed as Charlie glared at her, his frown turning to a smirk as his head disappeared quickly.
"Where'd you –"
"My dear, are you quite alright?"
No. No no no, she thought, her cheeks turning the shade of one of the nearby toadstools.
Mr. Wonka was standing above her, his hand outstretched, a look of genuine concern ruffling his handsome features.
"Yes, I'm fine," she answered truthfully, scrambling to push herself up as quickly as she could.
"Please," he gestured to his outstretched hand, "allow me to help."
She took his hand – only half reluctantly, she noted – and he pulled her up effortlessly.
She began dusting off her dress, small patches of icing sugar falling like snow to the ground.
"May I?" he questioned, raising a hand.
"Uh," she watched warily as his hand moved slowly past her ear, gently plucking something from her hair.
"For you," he grinned, presenting her with a single daffodil. "It's only slightly broken, I hope you don't mind."
"Oh," she looked down in dismay at the carnage she had caused. "Mr. Wonka, I'm so sorry, your flowers are –"
"My dear," he stopped her, raising a hand, "I am simply thankful that you yourself are not injured, what's a bit of broken chocolate between friends?" he joked, smiling as she sighed in relief. "May we?" he gestured to the path, offering her his arm.
She resisted the urge to beam from ear-to-ear and instead linked her arm through his calmly, his velvet coat soft against her skin, all thoughts of her little brother forgotten for the moment.
They walked in silence for a bit, Em desperate to ask what had become of Mrs. Beauregarde. She resisted.
"This garden, it truly is spectacular," she noted, shyly. "How do you come up with stuff like this?"
"The mind is such a wonder to explore, don't you think?" he affirmed, looking around proudly.
She watched him with interest, his eyes flicking around constantly, scrutinising every part of the world he had created.
"Oh, you'll simply love this," he said excitedly, quickening his pace towards the sound of running water. As they rounded a corner they were met by the remaining members of their tour. Em made to pull her arm away from Mr. Wonka's when she saw Mrs. Beauregarde's glare, but his grip was too tight – either Mr. Wonka didn't notice or he didn't care. Charlie gave her a teasing thumbs up and she frowned surreptitiously at him.
The sound of running water, as it happened, was coming from a river flowing carefully through the meadow, a large waterfall crashing noisily at one end.
"What a disgusting, dirty river," complained Mrs. Gloop, her hands stuffed with chocolate truffle acorns.
"It's industrial waste," noted Mr. Salt, disgusted, "it's polluted."
"It's chocolate," divulged Mr. Wonka, the close proximity of his voice making Em jump slightly.
"That's chocolate?!" cried Veruca.
"That's chocolate," grinned Charlie as the crowd gathered for a closer look.
"A chocolate river?" questioned Violet, her nose wrinkling slightly.
"That's the most fantastic thing I've ever seen," sighed Em, unaware she was leaning into Mr. Wonka's side ever so slightly.
"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "Ten thousand gallons an hour," he told them as they listened with interest. "And look at my waterfall. That's the most important thing," he gestured to the torrent of thick chocolate falling freely into the river. "It's mixing my chocolate, it's actually churning my chocolate. You know," he paused, "no other factory in the world mixes its chocolate by waterfall," he turned his head to face Em, "but it's the only way if you want it just right." He gave her a small wink and she looked away in embarrassment.
"Em! Look over there, across the river!" called Charlie, drawing her attention. "They look like little people!" Em followed her brother's gaze and saw a group of 10 or 12 little men and women, all dressed in bright pink baggy overalls, their hair relatively long and sticking up at all angles, giving the distinct impression they'd just received an electric shock.
"Jumping crocodiles!" she yelped, quoting their grandfather. "That must be who makes the chocolate!"
She unintentionally tugged at her arm once again and Mr. Wonka released her. For a brief moment she missed the warmth of his arm on hers, but she soon recovered and jogged over to her brother, the two of them watching the small people with interest.
"Funny-looking people, aren't they, Wonka?" commented Mr. Salt, moving closer to the river to get a better look. They were about three foot tall, varying in shape and size.
"What are they doing?" quizzed Mrs. Beauregarde.
"It must be creaming and sugaring time," answered Mr. Wonka, glancing at his wrist before placing his hands casually behind his back.
"Well, they can't be real people," scoffed Violet.
"Of course they're real people," retaliated Mr. Wonka, clearly offended. "They're Oompa Loompas."
"Oompa Loompas?!" gawked the group.
"From Loompaland."
"There's no such place," berated Mrs. Teevee.
"Excuse me, dear lady –"
"Mr. Wonka, I am a teacher of Geography at –"
"Oh, well then you know all about it and what a terrible country it is," stated Mr. Wonka. "Nothing but desolate wastes and fierce beasts," he elaborated, watching the workers fondly, "and the poor little Oompa Loompas were so small and helpless, they would get gobbled up right and left. A Wangdoodle would eat ten of them for breakfast and think nothing of it." Em and Charlie looked at each other, confused. Mr. Wonka continued, "and so I said, 'come and live with me in peace and safety, away from all the Wangdoodles and Hornswogglers and Snozzwangers and rotten Vermicious Knids," he finished, leaving the group to gawk at him, a few of the Oompa Loompas pausing in their work to stare back at the man.
Mr. Salt eventually broke the silence.
"Snozzwangers? Vermicious Knids? What rubbish is this?" he snapped.
"I'm sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing," notified Mr. Wonka, turning to face the group once again. "And so, in the greatest of secrecy I transported the entire population of Oompa Loompas to my factory." He smiled, simply.
"Daddy," Em cringed at the whiny voice. "I want an Oompa Loompa right away," demanded Veruca.
"Alright, darling, alright. I'll get you one before the day is out," simpered her father.
"No!" she bellowed, "I want one now."
"Can it, you nit!" bickered Violet, earning a glare from her mother.
"Em? Look at Augustus," whispered Charlie, his focus away from the main group.
Em spotted the large boy elbow deep in the river, his arms slick with chocolate, his mouth and chin coated in the milky brown liquid.
"Augustus, no!" she heard Mr. Wonka cry, drawing the attention of the rest of the group.
"Augustus, sweetheart, save some room for later!" tittered Mrs. Gloop as the group moved fervently towards the boy.
"Augustus!" pleaded Mr. Wonka, coming to a stop next to Em.
"Mr. Wonka, he's just a little peckish," dismissed Mrs. Gloop, watching her son fondly.
"Just one more handful!" gurgled Augustus between large mouthfuls.
"Augustus, please!" begged Mr. Wonka. "Please don't do that, you'll contaminate the entire –"
With a large splash, Augustus vanished from sight.
"– river," finished Mr. Wonka, his face falling flat as Mrs. Gloop let out a scream.
"Man overboard!" yelled Mike as chaos ensued.
"Help!" cried Augustus as he bobbed up and down dangerously.
"Don't just stand there!" implored Mrs. Gloop, grabbing Mr. Wonka's arm helplessly. "He can't swim!"
"Help. Police. Murder," responded Mr. Wonka, deadpan, as she shook his arm vigorously.
Em watched on in horror as the chocolatier stood by impassively.
"Quick, Augustus, grab this!" Her brother appeared by her side, holding an oversized lollypop out to the drowning boy.
Augustus grappled frantically with the giant candy, his hands slipping hopelessly across the sugar coated surface as he disappeared once again below the chocolaty expanse, apparently being pulled by something.
"What's happening to him?" asked Mrs. Teevee, holding tightly onto Mike as they peered into the river.
"It looks like the Oompa Loompas have sent down the diversionary plumbing," noted Mr. Wonka with mild interest.
"Will that save him?!" sobbed Mrs. Gloop, looking hopeful.
"No," shrugged Mr. Wonka, "but it'll save my chocolate."
"Dive in! Save him!" beseeched Mrs. Gloop.
"Oh, it's too late now." Mr. Wonka shook his head.
"Too late?" demanded Em, incredulously as a long pipe was lowered slowly into the river, barely big enough to fit a person.
"The suction's got him."
"Suction?" questioned Mr. Salt.
"Where is he?!" wailed Mrs. Gloop.
"Watch the pipe," instructed Mr. Wonka, simply.
They watched obediently as the pipe sucked up the thick chocolate, a steady stream flowing up and out of sight. Sure enough, as if by magic, the frightened face of Augustus Gloop appeared, travelling desperately slowly before coming to a stop halfway up the pipe.
"Help! Help!" his muffled voice sounded from the pipe and he cried in fear.
"He's stuck!" squawked Mike, pointing excitedly at the trapped boy.
"He's blocking all the chocolate," groaned Violet, forming large bubble with her chewing gum and popping it noisily.
"What happens now?" queried Em, relieved that the boy was no longer drowning but still concerned that he was not yet free.
"Oh, the pressure'll get him out," explained Mr. Wonka, calmly. "Terrific pressure is building up behind the blockage."
"I wonder how long it'll take," mused Mrs. Beauregarde, her large eyes staring up in awe.
"The suspense is terrible," sighed Mr. Wonka, "I hope it'll last."
They could hear the pipe beginning to groan and creak under the strain.
"He's nearly done it!" cried Mr. Salt, apparently riveted by the situation.
"This is terrible," lamented Mrs. Gloop as her son tried desperately to wriggle himself free.
"He'll never get out," breathed Charlie, worried for a boy he hardly knew.
"Yes he will, Charlie. If Mr. Wonka says he'll get out, he'll get out," assured Em, hoping her words would ring true. She had an undeniable desire to trust the man, she just hoped she wasn't wrong.
Suddenly, without warning, Augustus shot up the pipe and out of sight, leaving them all to stare in stunned silence.
"He's gone!" sobbed Mrs. Gloop, turning to Mr. Wonka in shock. "He'll be made into marshmallows in five seconds flat!"
"Impossible, my dear lady," asserted Mr. Wonka. "That's absurd, unthinkable!" Relief flooded Mrs. Gloop's face momentarily, until, "that pipe doesn't go to the marshmallow room, it goes to the fudge room."
She glared at Mr. Wonka as he looked at her innocently.
"You evil man!" she shrieked. "You horrible, vile –"
"Wonkata?"
Mrs. Gloop stopped suddenly as a high-pitched voice interrupted her. The group looked around in confusion.
"Ah," Mr. Wonka glanced down and they followed his gaze. An Oompa Loompa was stood patiently at his shins, his spiky head of hair stopping just below the man's knee. "Yes, thank you. Take Mrs. Gloop straight to the fudge room, but look sharp!" he urged, "or her little boy is liable to get poured into the boiler."
"You've boiled him up, I know it!" hissed Mrs. Gloop as the little man took her hand and began to lead her away.
"Nihil desperandum, dear lady," called Mr. Wonka as they disappeared through the meadow. "Across the desert lies the promised land. Goodbye, Mrs. Gloop. Adieu! Auf wiedersehen! Gesundheit. Farewell." He watched them leave before turning back to the group, a pleasant smile on his face.
Em stared at him warily. Maybe he's mad, she thought despairingly. Trust me to go for the mad one…
"What are they doing?" Veruca drew their attention from the chocolatier and pointed at the remaining Oompa Loompas, who had began to hum quietly.
Mr. Wonka's eyes went wide and he grimaced.
"Oh, I warned them about this," he muttered, watching them warily. "They rather enjoy singing and dancing and I imagine they'd like to put on a show for you all."
"Can we watch?" asked Violet, excitedly.
"Certainly not," opposed Mr. Wonka, grabbing his cane and ushering them away from the river. "There's far too much left to see."
"What kind of place are you running here, Mr. Wonka?!" Mrs. Teevee interrogated as they were bustled along to a small dock by the river.
"Uhh…" Mr. Wonka paused, avoiding the question as they all looked at him expectantly, his eyes darting to each of them.
Em prayed that Augustus would be fine and Mr. Wonka was just putting on a show for them all. After all, surely no harm could come to them under the watchful eye of the famous Willy Wonka?