The next few days were quiet. Sometimes though, little surprising things happened that gave you that little jolt, or wake up, like when you go downstairs at night time but miss that one last step.
Most of the noises came from the front store, usually of something falling over suddenly or the little bell by the door ringing now and then.
The shop was like a sleepless night during the day. You were so much more aware about every noise that happened, because they stood out so much more when it was quiet, and you were scared to say anything in case you missed one, also scared because if you did break the silence, it would only make the silence more noticeable. Your imagination went wild in the silence.
Sandy hated the quiet. The candy wasn't selling as well as it had been, and that meant not much income. It was never quiet before. Bills were piling up and there was only a small margin of profit. But the thing that annoyed her the most was that Mr Wonka didn't even seem to care in the slightest. She had to make him understand that the bussiness had to make money aswell as candy to stay open. He just didn't seem to think money was a problem. Why?
Obsession made you forget things…important things…
The schools were back, and that meant children packed the shop in the early morning, before school, then again late afternoon after school. Some days, they could even hear them running. Things were so chaotic at that time, and there was always one child that didn't have enough money to pay, and that held the queue up, or just made the place a little uncomfortable.
Tim and Joe were the ones who usually served at the counter, they were quick and friendly, and always kept the place tidy which Mr Wonka liked to see. But he never let anyone else clean the place. Mr Wonka always made sure he was the one cleaning. Even if it meant mopping the entire floor and wiping every single shelf himself. He couldn't stand mess, unless of course he made it that way.
One time, when Sandy was on her break, she heard a sudden young scream from the front store, like crying.
She ran through, and found Joe, Tim and surprisingly Mr Wonka.
"We called him through when this little boy just burst into tears." Tim said to Sandy, with a little shrug. It hadn't changed the situation at all. Mr Wonka seemed to become part of the furniture when he came to the front store.
"Yes, look at him! It's awful, but he won't tell us what's wrong." Joe said, really concerned.
Mr Wonka just stood there with the tip of his finger pushing gently on his chin, deep in thought, flinching every time the boy cried loudly, just waiting for the boy to calm down. The boy was holding a wonka bar in his shaking hand.
"He won't pay for it, Mr Wonka."
"He got to the counter then just…burst into tears."
Mr Wonka stared at the boy with his eyebrows raised. He tilted his head slightly then began to tap the floor with his foot, almost losing patience. How long can one little boy cry for?
"Do you think…" he suddenly said, then quickly turned away from the boy. He dashed over to the counter, ducked, then hopped back up again, holding a little yellow lollypop.
He ran back over to the little boy and gave him the lollypop. The boy took it cautiously but didn't open it. His hands were too shaky.
"Now then…whatever is the matter?" Mr Wonka said, folding his arms and crouching down to the boy's eye level. He was only around eight or nine years old…Sandy just realised that the boy's eyes seemed to match Mr Wonka's. There was a lot of life behind both pairs of eyes.
"I was about to pay for this wonka bar, when this big kid took all my money!" the boy said, sniffing between each word.
"Did he now? What did he look like?"
"Big and really mean! He always takes my money, sir, never gives it back. I only get fifty pence a week from my dad and that kid takes every penny."
"Hm…Wonka bars are forty five pence each…And that boy was in my store?" Mr Wonka said, horrified then stood up.
"Yes, sir!" the boy stamped his foot, more angry than upset now, then noticed the little yellow lollipop clutched in his hand.
"Hm. I don't like that…" Mr Wonka said, shaking his head continuously, staring down at the floor with wide eyes. "I don't like that at all. You must never let bullies push you around, little boy. If you let them, they might decide to take something more valuable than money, you know. Like your left shoe."
"I don't even have money for this lollypop, sir!"
"Dear me, little boy! Keep this under your hat, that one's free. Now then, if you see that boy in my store, tell whoever is behind the counter, and I will see to it myself that he won't be allowed in this store again. And what more…I'll make some of my candy a little cheaper. Kay?"
The little boy smiled, then left.
"Nicely handled, Mr Wonka!" Joe said.
"Yes, sir he stopped crying right away!" Tim patted Mr Wonka hard on the back which made Mr Wonka choke and he gave him a little 'how dare you touch me' sort of look, but then laughed it off.
"Kids…" he said simply. "Lucky little people, aren't they?"
Something had lifted from the store after that day, but no matter how hard Sandy tried to lighten things up, she just didn't have the same effect on people as Mr Wonka did. Not to mention he was giving free candy away.
Speaking of which…
How many times had he done this? Sure under the circumstances it was understandable for that boy, but…did he pay for the wonka bar he had in his hand after all that? And what was that about making some of the candy cheaper?
If things kept going this way, Sandy knew she would be out of a job within a year, and the Wonka store would disappear…
Mr Wonka had started staying in the creating room, all by himself with the door locked for hours on end, never coming out, not even to eat. In his absence, the store seemed to have become a lot more bleaker again…and sales had gone down.
Some days, when Sandy and the others arrived for work, the shop doors were already open, and Mr Wonka was already locked inside the creating room, so some days they wouldn't even see him at all.
Suddenly the whole place got warmer, and steam seeped out of the creating room door.
"What is he doing in there?"
Sandy got up and knocked on the door. "Mr Wonka?"
Then a little 'yelp' was heard from inside behind the door, which was closely followed by a very loud,
BOOM!!!
"Mr Wonka?!?" Sandy was practically banging the door now, smoke was seeping out from beneath the door.
"Mr Wonka, are you-"
Suddenly it swung open, Mr Wonka darted out, threw himself against the door to shut it tight before another even louder
BOOOOOOM!
….came from inside.
Tim, Joe, Bill, Fred and Sandy stood staring at Mr Wonka's back for a moment. Then Sandy tapped his shoulder. He yelped again when he saw all the faces staring back at him.
He was almost covered head to toe in what seemed to be little pink bubbles. The only place there were no bubbles were around his face and nose where a pair of large round black goggle like glasses were.
"That…" he said, raising an index finger to them, "was…some something!" he blurted out, then slid down the door slowly onto the floor.
"What is…this pink stuff, Mr Wonka?"
"What indeed…" he said, dazed but fascinated with what he was covered in. He just couldn't stop smiling.
"Mr Wonka!" Sandy yelled, horrified at what had just happened and also horrified at how clueless Mr Wonka was being. He had just been in the same room as an explosion!
"Oh, yeah…pink bubble gum." he squeaked.
"I've never seen bubble gum do that." Joe said quietly.
"Bubble gum can't do that!" Sandy said, quickly.
"I never said it was bubble gum." Mr Wonka said, picking pits off his coat.
"You certainly did, sir. You said it was bubble gum just now." someone said.
"I said nothing of the sort. I said Pink Bubble gum. It had candy floss in it…among other things…the bubbles grow real big but…they're a real whopper when they go pop like that. Who knew car tire pumps could make them so big so quickly."
"Car tire pumps?!? You used car tire pumps to blow up the chewing gum?!?"
"I used what? Stop mumbling like that, you really should get that checked." he smiled at them, then started picking at the pink bubble gum all over him. He shuddered and took out a handkerchief.
"That won't help! You'll get that stuck to the gum!"
"I'm not going to use this to pick the gum off…" he took the jacket off, put the handkerchief over the collar then carried it by his thumb and index finger back inside the creating room, shuddering and clenching his teeth all the way, then the door slammed shut again.
Sandy looked at Joe and Tim. They were both looking at her, but Joe was the only one jerking his head toward the door, signalling her to go talk to him, make sure he really was alright.
She sighed, reluctantly putting her hand on the door handle (which by the way was still sticky) and amazingly the door hadn't been locked…
The creating room was the most incredible thing she had ever seen. There were pots and pans everywhere, bubbling and brewing with all sorts of mixtures. It was like a witch's kitchen with all the pots, but a whole lot friendlier…sort of.
The walls were shining almost like gold, and there were boxes, shelves, drawers everywhere, each and every one a brighter colour to whatever it was it was sitting next to. Everything screamed out for attention, and she found herself wanting to know what was inside every single box her eyes threw themselves at.
If it wasn't for all the colour everywhere and everything else oddly charming about the room, anyone would have thought a bomb had hit it…then she remembered the pink bubble gum. But then nothing had any bubble gum on it.
There was a little cubicle by the door, made of what seemed to be glass. The inside of it had words written all over it, but neatly and little round buttons stuck to them. It was a model of some sort but she couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be.
She could say one thing, no matter how messy it was, it was also incredibly clean, not a speck of dust in sight. But…how could any one do anything or find anything in such a room? Some things were covered with sheets, and areas of the floor had little pieces of paper with writing scribbled all over them on both sides. There were doodles and words written on the walls in white chalk too.
Everything was shiny and spotless but colourful. She could see why Mr Wonka stayed in here all the time. It was in some ways oddly beautiful.
There were all sorts of odd objects lying around, marbles, yoyos, things made of rubber, a broken watch and lots of pairs of different coloured gloves and glasses. Everything in the room moved or made a noise and the room was so packed with stuff Sandy was scared to move.
"Did I misspell my little door sign?"
Sandy jumped, dropping whatever it was she had just picked up. Mr Wonka appeared, that creepy toothy grin shining back at her, but no matter how much he smiled, she knew he wasn't happy about her being in the creating room.
"Your what?"
"My door sign. 'creating Room Keep out' I think was what I had printed onto it…could be mistaken though. Did I make a misprint?"
"No."
"Oh right, so…you ignored it?"
"I stopped knocking, didn't I?"
"Ah. Yes, that you did. Quite right. Thank you!" he skipped off to his left and disappeared behind a table covered with what seemed to be a huge elaborate chemistry set, all sorts of colourful liquids flying around inside it. He started tapping each one, almost like it was a huge drum kit, not caring if the glass cracked here and there. Then each beaker sang, 'cling' and the tapping almost became a song.
"What have you been doing in here…?"
"Creating. After all, it is a creating room." he continued tapping the little song, seemingly not paying attention to what he was doing, but knowing exactly why he was doing it. It scared Sandy how thoughtless Mr Wonka was.
"What have you been creating, Mr Wonka?"
"…A creative mess I supose." he said tilting his head slightly. He darted behind a stack of boxes and started knocking on them and slowly opening one of them.
"You lock yourself in here for hours on end, never coming-"
"Hold this for me, will you?"
"Okay…and …What is this I'm holding?"
"A spoon."
"A spoon…?"
It was a spoon, it was stripy all the way down the handle, green, white and blue but the spoon top and one colour, a lighter blue. It was shiny and sticky the longer she held it, it seemed to start melting, or it felt like it was.
"Well, it's an edible spoon."
"And…I'm holding it because…"
"Because I want to see if it turns your fingers blue." He whipped out a little magnifying glass and moved it above her fingers.
"Is…is it supposed to?"
"Of course not!"
"Oh…good."
"It's supposed to turn them green." he said, darting his eyes up to hers innocently.
Sandy could only think of one word to reply with.
"Random…"
"Try some." Mr Wonka said, almost seriously demanding her to. "It's just like a lollipop really, just shaped like a spoon."
"Um…why is it shaped like a spoon?"
"I thought it was obvious? You know when you're doing washing up there is always one tea spoon at the bottom of the sink? Well, if you eat it you don't have to wash it!"
"But…it will be all soapy and…never mind…"
She put the edible spoon on a counter. "Mr Wonka?"
"Yeah?"
"We worry about you, we sometimes don't see you at all during the day, not even lunch hour when the store closes…"
"Why should that worry you? I don't see you during the day and I don't worry about you at all."
The bluntess was what bothered her. So incredibly blunt, but it wasn't said in a nasty way. It was in a strange sort of way comforting. If Mr Wonka had to worry about you, you knew you were not safe.
"The point is…well…are you eating at all when your in here?"
"I eat when I'm hungry."
"Alright…fine…but…You…do realise that we're not making much money…?"
"Well I'm making candy, it's your job to make the money, isn't it?"
"No, it's my job to manage it."
The whole time they were talking, Mr Wonka was up and down ladders, sipping glasses of something called Mur and Raquel . Everything that was distracting him had some sort of lable on it, and he read each one before tasting whatever was behind, above or beneath the label.
"Isn't that the same thing? Making and managing things? How can you make something without managing it?"
"No, Mr Wonka…it's not. We're in real deep here. We may not even have enough money to pay the pills for the next month."
There was a sort of sound that sounded like…well an audible roll of the eyes, if there is such a sound. "That's your problem, isn't it?" he said climbing up a ladder.
Sandy, saw the ladder shaking, and grabbed it to steady it, but Mr Wonka didn't even notice how wobbly it was, or how motionless it suddenly became when Sandy grabbed the handles of the ladder. "Mr Wonka, listen to me! This is very important! You can't keep wasting money on creating candy your not going to sell! And you certainly can't give free candy away whenever you feel like it!"
"The boy was upset, sugar is good for you when you're upset. Sugar makes you happier. Sugar dries the tears. Not to mention he looked a litte…sour."
He used that word a lot to describe a lot of people, but Sandy never asked him what he meant by it. It was usually if he saw someone walking in a sort of hunch, or had a face like a bull dog chewing a wasp or simply looked like if someone poked them hard enough they would fall to the ground and smash into lots of tiny pieces. He said sour people need candy more than any other sort of people.
"How many times have you given candy away for free?"
He looked at her in silence. He jumped down from the ladder.
His face was plain, but his eyes seemed to have sunk into his face a little. Her face was simply agitated. She knew he wasn't really listening to her. He was too occupied. The only way it seemed to get his attention in the creating room was to insult the very thing he created.
"As if you could put any price on candy." he shrugged. "I would happily give it away! I don't make candy for the money. I make it because that's what I do. Sandy, please stop worrying…worries do nothing but scurry around and make everyone nervous…and forgive me but, you're a nervous wreck!" he let his arms drop to his side, then he disappeared again, lost in a treasure load of colours and shapes.
"But that's what I don't understand. You're so calm about everything yet you know how much trouble we are in…how can you not let it bother you that we could be bankrupt in the next year?"
He popped his head back up, shook his head and stuttered slightly. He just didn't understand all these questions and worry. "I would never allow that. Things always go a little wobbly in the first year of your own business. Mr Switch himself told me he only opened the store three days a week for a while."
"You're not going to do that, are you?"
"Cut the hours? Oh, dear no. I'll only do that if I feel the need to. Now then…where did I put my marbles?"
It was crazy. How could she trust him with the business? He knew nothing about business for one, second he couldn't even keep his creating room organised, thirdly, he looked like he hadn't eaten or slept for days.
She just had to remember that it wasn't her job to keep the place running. That was his responsibility. He didn't seem to be taking it all that seriously, that was what bothered her. But when he said he would never allow bankruptcy to happen, it was almost like they were in a circus, and Mr Wonka was the safety net. Sure, it had a few lose wires here and there but it still was a safety net. That was never going to change. But even the most experienced of acrobats always worry that the net has been tied tight enough.