Chapter X- Down for the Count
It was breezy outside that day. The winter sun, low in the sky, was bright but despite that didn't produce a very large amount of heat, leaving the three boys walking down the street feeling decidedly chilly. It was after three and they were all heading back home from school, chattering as they went. To all their relief Martin hadn't bothered them today, he hadn't even tried approaching them. "Maybe he's given up?" Charlie had said earlier in the afternoon.
"Perhaps," Sam had replied, "or maybe he's just gotten sick of being sent over the entire school to deliver messages to non-existent teachers!" Still, it had seemed a bit strange to them, and even then Charlie got an ominous feeling in his gut.
"You know," said Rowan thoughtfully as they walked, pushing his hair back out of his eyes, "We haven't done anything after school for ages now. Do you guys wanna come round my place tomorrow? I don't think my mum will mind."
"Sure! Then I can show you that game you asked about Rowan," said Sam. "You coming Charlie, or is Willy Wonka going to kidnap you like he did all last week?"
Charlie laughed in reply, "He never kidnapped me, I was just busy helping him with a new product we'll be selling soon."
"A new product? Oh, please tell us what it is, I love Wonka chocolate, you know I do," pleaded Sam.
"Sorry, but I've told you before- I'm not allowed to say about things like that, Mr Wonka would be mad."
"Do you really call him that?" asked Rowan abruptly, changing the direction of the conversation altogether. He still sounded very thoughtful.
"Huh?"
"I mean, when you talk to him, do you still call him 'Mr Wonka'? It's a bit formal isn't it? I thought you guys were supposed to be like, great friends or something? Or do you have to since he's sort of your boss?"
Charlie looked ahead, watching an empty packet of crisps fly across the sidewalk, amazed Rowan thought so deeply about something so normal. "I've never really thought about it. He never said directly that I had to address him as anything, and I've always just called him Mr Wonka. It would seem a little strange if I suddenly started calling him Willy now anyway, wouldn't it?"
"I suppose it would," said Rowan in his thoughtful tone, "but anyway, do you want to come round tomorrow?"
Charlie almost wanted to laugh, Rowan went off in some very strange tangents in conversations, but now it seemed they were back where they started, "Yeah, alright," he said.
"Awesome, sounds like it's all three of us!" Sam said enthusiastically, punching his fist into the air.
They said goodbye to him at the end of that street, Sam turning left to his house, Charlie and Rowan going right towards the park. The park itself was on the common, with space for football or other ball games, a long expanse of grass that could be used for anything and a children's play area with swings. "See you tomorrow," said Charlie.
"Bye," said Rowan, as he headed off towards the block of flats he lived in, cutting though the park.
Charlie walked up the hill towards the factory thinking already about the things he would be working on that day. The design of the Bubbletastic Balls had yet to be decided, they didn't even know yet whether they'd be sold separately or in packs. They'd started work on them late yesterday, employing the help of a creative Oompa-Loompa known as Eustace. There was just so much left to do, plus he'd promised his mother he'd go shopping after school with her tomorrow for some shoes, since his old ones had become too small for him now.
'Wait a moment…Oh no!' He'd completely forgotten about it till now. He couldn't go shopping and go round Rowan's house all at the same time- he would just have to go back and say to his friend that he'd come round another day. He jogged back down the hill disappointedly; he'd been looking forward to it. Still, he didn't want to upset his mother, she wouldn't be best pleased if he suddenly said he couldn't go with her. Plus, he did really need some shoes, these were starting to become painful. He headed towards the park, hoping to meet Rowan before he got back home.
To his surprise however, while scanning the expanse of the park, he couldn't spot him, surely he couldn't have crossed so quickly? Bemused, Charlie walked a little way forward, but amongst the dog walker, joggers and mothers with toddlers Rowan was no where to be seen. Perhaps he'd taken a leaf from the joggers' books and had run back? Charlie shrugged, he'd just have to go to his house and see him.
He looked around him as he went, eying the leafless cherry trees and empty flowerbeds. He wondered if there were any Christmas roses growing- still, even if they were they weren't likely to be as delicious as Wonka's! He headed across the grass skirting the river, watching a tiny puffed-up robin fly from tree to tree, chirping lamentfully about the cold weather.
"-I didn't mean for that to happen!" A voice towards the river distracted his attention from the bird; he tilted his head curiously in the direction of the sound, staring at a thick jungle of bush and willow trees that bordered the waters edge.
"I don't care! You deserve everything you get!" Charlie raised his eyebrows and stopped- whatever was going on back there? There was a brief silence after this last outburst, then a loud splash followed by a lot of coughing. Charlie felt worried now.
'They couldn't be…' he wondered if he should get someone, or call the police. Then again… he could be wrong, what if one of them just fell in? Or it could just be a playful push.
Next came the sounds of someone hitting something, and accompanied with the "Oof" sounds, and Charlie realised it must be a someonethey were hitting. Charlie wasn't sure what to do, he'd never been in a situation like this before, he couldn't seem to think clearly. He stepped forward through a gap between the bushes, thinking to see exactly what was going on before he decided to do anything else. As he passed through the tangle of shrubbery and thorns the noises became louder, as did the cries of pain. The boy's steps slowed as he struggled with his nervous feelings, nevertheless he dragged his feet forward, inching his way towards the scene of violence.
Behind a particularly thick cluster of willow trees, shrouded somewhat by a blanket of leaves stood several people, all around Charlie's own height and male. A very bad feeling creeping up on him, he himself crept forward, begging, praying not see a certain mop of black hair.
As it turned out, Charlie's prayers were not answered. The long black hair was there, sitting on Rowan's head- which, at the moment was taking a good punching. Not taking a moment's thought longer Charlie bravely rushed out, catching the boy who was pulverising Rowans' fist in the open palm of his hand. Charlie recognised him, not by name, but by sight. He was one of Martin's friends. There were four of them, this boy, two others he knew and of course- Martin.
They all looked surprised as Charlie jumped in, a stunned look quickly fluttering over Martin's haughty features before quickly disappearing. "Hello Bucket, are you the knight in shining armour here to save the princess?" he said spitefully, "if I were you, I'd try somewhere else, this princess isn't worth saving."
"Go back Charlie," said Rowan, soaking wet, his lip bloody, one eye bruised and shut, "you'll only get beat up too."
Charlie felt as though he was being tugged in two different directions by invisible winds, the love of his friend pulling him forward, common sense dragging him backward. At last, he said, "I can't leave you, you're my friend."
"I've involved you in this too much already Charlie- I couldn't forgive myself if you were hurt because of me," Rowan said, not even trying to pull his arm away from the grips of a burly youth behind him.
"Involve?" asked Charlie, his voice diving into the high-pitched pool, "what do you mean, involve? I only want to help!"
"Buzz off, pipsqueak," said Martin, his patience wearing, "this is between me and the princess, it's none of your business. Unless you want to make it so, that is." One of the other boys smacked his fist in his hand to demonstrate.
"Oh yeah, and it's these guys' business as well, is it? You're nothing but a bunch of thugs!" said Charlie angrily.
"I never said I would play fair," Martin said, "I make up my own rules."
Martin's friends didn't look best pleased at being called thugs, Charlie realised the danger he was in and tried another route, "Look," he said, deciding insultation wouldn't be the best plan of action, "why are you doing this? What's Rowan done to you?"
Light filtered through the mat made by the willow leaves, illuminating Martin's face, "My problem with Rowan is that he exists." His sneer grew wider, "now move."
"…No."
Martin shrugged in an attempt to look dramatic and cool, sighing ostentatiously, "Fine. Toby, Reece - Get him." The bullies launched themselves at Charlie, fingers balled into fist, while the other resumed his work with Rowan, Martin joining him. They hit and pushed at Charlie and the world became blurred, spinning this way and that as he tried to move his arm to block the blows from landing on his face. He closed his eyes, everything flying out of control. He pushed at the meaningless lumps in front of him that hurt him so much, trying to make them go away. Disjointed sounds of pain hit his ears and his mind numbly put together that they were Rowan's. A blow hit his stomach with a thump and Charlie cried out, hands gripped his arms and pulled them back behind him as more blows fell down like rain, pain splashing over him. Charlie forced his eyes open, meeting the spinning scenery again gasping. "Stop it!" he shouted, wrenching his arms from the boys, the spinning slowing somewhat. He pushed the boy who was trying to regain his grip on him, amazed as he tumbled to the ground, tripped by a tree root.
He noticed Rowan was on the ground too, over by a large willow tree, hands covering his face instinctively as Martin and his friend kicked at him without mercy. The other bully, Toby- or Reece, he wasn't too sure, was looking surprised at his partner sprawled in the grass rubbing his ankle, he looked up at Charlie and charged again, attempting to push the young Bucket into the tree behind. Encouraged by his previous victory Charlie dug his shoes into the earth and held out his hands, and soon the boys were locked in a fierce struggle, pushing against one another trying to force the other back. Charlie felt his leg muscles straining, almost giving way. He gasped, feinting, "The police!" his eyes on an empty spot behind the bully.
The other boy jumped, "What?" he asked in a panic, swivelling his head round to see behind him. Charlie took this advantage in the other boy's lack of concentration and shoved hard, watching triumphantly as the boy stumbled back, landing with a loud splash into the river, water spraying out all around him like a tidal wave.
On a high, he looked over to where Rowan was being pulverised before, determined to take Martin and the other out as well. His friend was still slumped on the ground, Martin's remaining bullish friend kicking him gleefully, delighting in his groans and cries of pain. Charlie rounded on him, feeling powerful, invincible.
But where had Martin gone? The boy with Rowan looked up as Charlie approached- and smirked. Hands wrapped around Charlie's neck choking him. "Die Bucket!" Martin said through angry gritted teeth as he clenched his hands tighter round his classmate's neck. Charlie struggled, gasping for air but finding none, his hands scrabbling like claws at Martin's, nails tearing at skin. At last when Charlie thought he couldn't bear it any longer, Martin let go, and Charlie stumbled forward.
He breathed in deeply, sucking in the sweet air he never thought he would breathe again. He half fell against a tree trunk, leaning against it for support, knowing he wouldn't have long to recover. Already the boy he'd pushed into the river was crawling out over the bank, sopping wet and looking murderous. Having nursed his bruised ankle the other of Martin's friends was now rising to his feet, not looking best pleased either. Charlie was outnumbered four to two, or four to one, seeing as Rowan wasn't doing much at all, in fact, he might have even been unconscious, he certainly wasn't doing a lot of moving.
With all four boys closing in on him Charlie began to panic, there was no way he could fight off all of them at once. Before he could have even thought of escape however Martin's hand was on him again, this time clenching his arm, preventing escape. Then all the boys were upon him, eager to cause more damage. "You asked for it Bucket," said the one dripping with water.
"You attacked me first," said Charlie, all his shyness and fear he'd lost from before rushing back overwhelmingly. His body was tense, prepared for the blows he knew were sure to follow shortly- But he could never have prepared himself for the onslaught that came. It started with simple pushing, like two people in a playground fight do, revving themselves up for a brawl. The pushes got harder and Charlie was pushed like a ragdoll from one boy to another, carried by the momentum of the push until carried to far he was thrown to the ground on his knees. Martin grabbed hold of him by his hair and pulled him painfully to his feet, only for him to be knocked down again by shoes kicking at his legs.
He was forced to endure this cycle of hair pulling and kicking until, utterly humiliated and degraded; the boys grew tired of it and opted to a more painful form of abuse. The boys, no longer synchronised in their attack picked their own methods, one kicking, others punching, someone still dragging his hair out by the roots, unearthing the thin leafless stems of hair from his scalp. Then after hurried whispers of "Why don't we-?" they all took hold of him, grabbing him roughly, Charlie's mind still spinning, and ran forward, smashing him headfirst into a tree. Charlie reeled, completely unaware of the next attacks as fireworks ricocheted inside his head. The next thing he knew, he was in the water floundering, with no recollection of how he got there, the pain still shooting in his brain.
Martin leered down at Rowan, who lay unconscious and broken under the willow tree. He heard his friends laughing at Charlie paddling and splashing wildly in the river they'd just thrown him into. Rowan's leg stuck out at an unnatural angle, Martin bit his lip guiltily, "Come on guys, let's leave Bucket to play with the fishies," he said to the three boys by the river.
"But Martin-" They moaned.
"We've only just started-"
"-Need to teach Bucket a lesson!"
"Shut up!" snapped Martin, "I said we're going!"
"Why? You afraid or something? Got the attack of the 'niceness'?" Reece said mutinously, looking to his two friends for support, who nodded with him.
Martin flushed a deep red, "Of course not. I…I've just got bigger fish to fry than these guys," One of the boys snorted, looking at Charlie in the water, "I'm going to egg Turkentine's house, coming?"
"Yeah, alright."
"Sounds more fun than fish-boy anyway." They all walked back through the bushes, Martin wiping the red stuff smeared on his hands on a neighbouring tree.
Charlie choked on the water, his eyes shut at the threat of getting water in them as he doggy-paddled blindly, searching out the bank of the river. At last his hands found the edge and his grabbed onto it like a life line, risking opening his eyelids. He looked out onto the still bank, only seeing Rowan sat motionless as he was before. 'Where did they go?' thought Charlie. He decided not to complain, although it did seem kind of strange that that they'd left so soon. 'Maybe they had another appointment beating someone else up,' he thought sourly, pulling himself up painfully over the bank. His head, still painful, had subsided into a dull throbbing and he ached all over. He didn't even want to think how many bruises he would have in the morning. He stood up slowly, wincing and feeling like an old man. He stumbled over to where Rowan was, taking one step at a time.
Rowan looked even worse than Charlie felt, as well as the injuries he'd sustained when Charlie joined the fight he now sported a big gash down his arm, a dozen more bruises and what looked like a broken leg. Bending down with a grunt of pain Charlie shook him. There was no response. He could hear Rowan's breathing, though it was shallow, so there was no need to worry about that. But it seemed Rowan had fainted, either from fear or from pain. Charlie looked at him, wondering what to do next, he wasn't old enough to own a mobile phone, and Rowan's mother hadn't let him have one either, so he couldn't ring for help. Even if they did Charlie wondered who he would ring. If it was just himself he could call the factory to get his parents, but Rowan was here and he knew Wonka refused point-blank to allow anyone into his factory without meeting them beforehand and subjecting them to rigorous inspection. Ringing 999¹ would be his best option, but since they had no phone that idea was out of the window as well. Charlie glanced worriedly at Rowan, really not liking the angle his leg was at.
Making his mind up, he walked out of the small clearing through the bushes back into the park, wincing at every step. Once there he scanned the nearby area, thinking to approach a friendly looking person and ask to borrow a phone. On the common he spied out several suitable looking candidates and quickly rehearsed what he would say to them.
It appeared afterward that he need not have done so however, for a worried looking woman walked up to him before he could even try to approach anyone. "Are you okay?" She asked, peering at his beat-up face, "Do you need some help? You look really hurt…"
Charlie was amazed how some people could be so kind, and others so cruel.
"Yes please," he said shyly, "me and my friend got beat up and he's unconscious, it would really help I could borrow a phone to call for an ambulance."
The woman looked strangely at the modest under-demanding boy in front of her, "Let you borrow a phone? Nonsense, I'll drive you there myself." Charlie blinked up at her, not expecting this sudden kindness.
"Thank you," he said, managing a small smile.
"Wait right there and I'll fetch my husband, he's only by the swings with our daughter. He can help me carry your friend; he's not seriously hurt is he? Otherwise we'd best call the emergency services…"
Charlie shook his head, "I don't think so, but he has a broken leg… I could go get your husband if you like."
Once again the woman looked flabbergasted at the demure boy before her who seemed to think she'd just leave him and his wounded friend out in the common to die. "You're hurt, don't worry so much," she said, shaking her own head and walking off quickly towards the childrens' play area.
Charlie watched her go, glancing back to the line of trees and indulging in his habit of fiddling with the hem of his shirt, wondering if leaving Rowan there on his own was such a good idea after all. Who knows, Martin and his friends could have just ducked out of sight behind a bush, they could be attacking Rowan again right this instant. He hoped the woman would hurry, though he was immensely glad she would take them herself, he'd heard the stories about how long the emergency services took sometimes, and how the people they were supposed to be rescuing ended up dead before they'd even got to them.
When the woman came back she was with her husband and daughter, who looked about three or four. The child was whining about having to walk so quickly and evidently annoyed that her time in the park had been cut short. She quietened when she saw Charlie however, noticing how hurt he looked.
"He's this way," Charlie said, hoping the lady had filled her husband in on the way here, he didn't really feel up to explaining it all again. He led the way through the bushes and the willow trees, the little girl holding on to her father's hand. When Charlie saw Rowan, still in the same place he left him he was relieved, not knowing what he would do if he had come back and found him gone- or worse.
The man came and knelt down by Rowan checking him over, rolling up the boy's trouser leg carefully and inspecting it. "Yeah," he said, "it's broken alright. We're going to have to get him to a hospital to get that sorted, though the rest of him doesn't look in particularly great shape either." He looked over to Charlie, "same for you young man."
"I'm fine," said Charlie unconvincingly, not even believing himself.
"So what was this, some kind of childish brawl that went too far?" The man asked, distaste in his voice.
"Darling, please," said his wife, "we need to get these children to the hospital."
"Yes, yes, c'mon then." He pulled Rowan to his feet and carried him in a fireman's lift over his shoulder. They headed back out of the clearing for the last time, Charlie walking most slowly because of his injuries. To his surprise he found the little girl walking with him, a quiet look of awe on her small face from the gravity of the situation around her.
The car was parked by the roadside, and after lifting Rowan in, which was a lot harder than it sounded, it was only a short drive to the hospital. As Charlie sat in the back seat with the girl still continuously staring at him he began to relax, knowing everything would be taken care of by the doctors and nurses. His heightened sense of urgency began to fade and he found just how exhausted he was, both physically and mentally. He looked over to Rowan who sat on the over side of the girl, still asleep, his head lolled on his shoulders.
They drove into the car park, lucky that there were any spaces since the hospital was renowned for being incredibly busy. They exited the car quickly, the man once again carrying Rowan as they headed into the A & E. He dumped Rowan in an empty seat in the waiting room, "You all wait here, I'll go put you on the waiting list," he said, and Charlie sat down next to his friend, the woman and her daughter following suit.
"I never asked," the woman said, "what's your name?"
"Um, I'm Charlie," the said person stated tiredly, he gestured to the unconscious boy next to him, "and this is Rowan."
The woman nodded, as if approvingly. "You can call me Mrs White, this is my daughter Ella," the little girl who was having fun swinging her legs round in a pattern looked up, hearing her name and smiled. "And this of course is Mr White," she threw her hand in the direction of her husband, who was currently arguing loudly about why they would have to wait so long. "I'm sorry if this sounds nosy… but how did you two get like this? It doesn't seem to me like you were fighting each other."
Charlie wondered how best to explain it, in the end he decided simplest was easiest. " Well… um… I heard noises from behind the trees and found four boys from my school beating up Rowan, I tried to help, but…" he waved a hand, showing his beat up face and split lip, "there was just too many of them, and I'm not really used to fighting… at all."
Mrs White looked horrified, "I can't believe such a thing was going on right behind our backs, it's terrible! We should call the police; those boys could have killed you!"
"I want to make sure Rowan's alright first," said Charlie, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
"You need to think about yourself as well, I saw the way you limped here."
"Rowan's worse than me though, they'd started on him before I got there, I don't think I was even supposed to be involved at all. For some reason Martin really hates him," the boy said thoughtfully.
"Martin?"
"Ah, he's the boy who fought us, one of them anyway. He seems to have it in for Rowan ever since we started secondary school. I don't know why though, it's really strange. Martin's not a nice person, but he's not the type that goes around attacking people, he might threaten it, or hit you a bit, but not like this." Charlie decided to leave out the bit about Martin's name calling, there was a little girl nearby after all, and just hearing someone speak the word gay made him jump three feet into the air, for reasons quite obvious. He'd been trying to push those thoughts from his mind for the last couple of days, but they still tended to sneak back at times like this.
"Well, I'm sure you'll find the reason sooner or later," Mrs White said, bringing Charlie back from his thoughts, "knowing how easily boys fight it's probably something petty anyway."
Charlie didn't really agree, but he nodded again anyway.
"Uhnn…" A moan of pain drifted across the room as Rowan stirred, his waking expression one of hurt. Charlie jumped out of his seat, ignoring the burning pain in his ankle as he did so, and knelt down by him.
"Rowan- are you alright?"
"…No, not really," Rowan said, opening his eyes groggily, looking round the crowded waiting room. "Where is this?"
"The hospital. We've got to get your leg looked at, we think it's broken."
Rowan groaned again, "That would explain why it hurts so much," he paused, forehead still screwed in pain, "I don't remember how we got here… I didn't… faint, did I? Please tell me I didn't."
Charlie looked around uncomfortably, not meeting his friend's eyes. "I didn't see, but I think you must have done."
Rowan buried his head in his hands shamefully, "Sorry," came his muffled voice.
"There's nothing to be sorry for."
"But I left you to fight four people on your own, and in a fight you should have even had to be in!" Several people in the room looked over to see what all the noise was about; Rowan flushed and lowered his voice. "You got beat up because of me Charlie, look, your face is bleeding." Charlie raised his hand to his face, pulling it away to see red shining on his fingertips.
"That doesn't matter," said Charlie irritably, "why do you keep arguing with me like wanted them to beat you up?" he snapped.
Rowan flinched at his friend's words, not used to seeing him annoyed. "You're right," he said awkwardly. "Thank you for helping me."
Mr White walked back to them with a triumphant expression on his face, "I argued our way to the front of the waiting list, so you and your friend can go and be assessed now- Oh, hello, you're awake now are you?" he looked at Rowan, who stared back, wondering who on Earth was talking to him.
Charlie hesitantly climbed to his feet, using the side of one of the chairs to steady him, though still managing to stumble. 'I hope there's nothing wrong with my ankle,' he thought, a shooting pain running through him as he tested his weight on it. Mr White asked his wife to stay with Ella and he helped Rowan up, having him lean on his shoulder so he wouldn't hurt his bad leg.
They entered a small room in the A & E where a nurse was waiting. She looked over Rowan first, asking him where he hurt and checking his injuries, confirming that is leg was broken. "You'll have to have that X-rayed," she said, "I'll call to book you in the x-ray room once I check the other boy over." She addressed the second part mostly to the adult the room.
She moved on to Charlie, looking him over as well. She bent down to check his ankle, "I can't tell if this is just badly bruised or broken, I better book the x-ray room for you as well. Anywhere else hurt?"
"Um, my uh, head. It got smashed against a tree." He said, pointing to the offending part of his body.
The nurse tutted and parted the hair on top of his head, touching his scalp and invoking a large yelp from the boy. "That's a very nasty bump you've got there mister, you're going to have to be very careful, you could have a concussion, so we're going to have to keep you under observation for a while, and you can't go to sleep until we say it's alright, understood?" Charlie nodded, still grimacing from the touch, "I'm going to ring the x-ray department now, it might take a while for you both to get in there though, we're dreadfully understaffed at the moment. You'll have to go to the children's wing, just follow the brown signs, they're everywhere. You can get a wheelchair from just outside here so Mr broken-leg here won't have to walk."
Mr White and the two boys thanked the nurse and exited the room and went back to Mrs White and Ella, finding a wheelchair shortly after. From there it was a trip across the hospital to the childrens ward and a big scoop of the NHS's2 favourite flavour- waiting. First they had to wait to talk to one of the nurses because they were all rushed off their feet, then they had to wait because there were no beds left and then, once they were all settled in they were told they would have to wait even longer for their x-rays.
"This is why I prefer not to fall ill," grumbled Mr White as a nurse adjusted Rowan's painkillers, "the NHS is terrible and the government won't do anything about it, except force hospitals to get rid of even more of their staff to save money."
Mrs White rolled her eyes, "Don't let him get started Charlie, once he starts you'll never get him to stop." She petted her husband's head playfully, "but anyway, do you think your parents would be home this time of day?"
"My mum probably is, and if not, my grandparents will be." Charlie said, propped up with half a dozen pillows.
"I can get the nurse to ring them to let them know you're here, same for your friend, but then I'm afraid we'll have to go, Ella's going to visit her granny today."
"That's fine… thanks for all your help."
"Thanks," Rowan chimed in from the next bed along.
Mrs White smiled, "I'll just mention it to the nurses on the way out then, they really should have taken personal details and rung before, but I guess they're just too busy, plus they must have thought we're your parents since we brought you here." Charlie gave a smile in return. "But it was nice meeting you boys, I hope you both get better soon, and that those bullies get what's coming to them."
"Thanks again," Charlie said. He gave a small wave as they all headed out of the ward, chattering as they went. He turned to Rowan in the bed to his left, "They were nice," he said, but then noticed the boy's eyes were closed. 'I guess he was tired,' he thought. Even so, Charlie was surprised he could sleep with all the noise that was going on around them. The ward they were in was rather large, beds crammed in to every and any space possible. The walls were painted a cheerful orange, but it needed redecorating, since the paint was starting to peel, revealing the old white colour underneath. He could hear the noise from what must be three or four televisions showing different programs and chatter from rowdy visitors.
A few minutes later a young flustered nurse with a trainee badge pinned to her chest came up to Charlie brandishing a clipboard and pen, "Right," she said, flipping the papers on the clipboard hurriedly, "I need to take you boys' details and- oh!" She noticed Rowan's sleeping face.
"I can give you his," Charlie said, sitting up with a wince, the pain in his head had come back, "His name is Rowan Padell, he lives at… um, number 7D Hazel Court. I've no idea of the post code though. Sorry."
"That's alright. I presume this address is in London?" she once again asked Charlie.
"Yeah, I know his telephone number too, you'll want that as well, won't you? It's... 0207…22, no wait, there's another 2 there, and …1234. I'm pretty sure that's it." She scribbled it all down.
"And you are-?"
The boy got ready for the outburst that was sure to follow.
"Charlie Bucket."
"You mean THE Charlie Bucket?" she asked, her eyes wide and the flustered look gone. Charlie tilted his head, hoping she would quieten down, the whole hospital would know otherwise- and besides, his head was killing him.
She looked at him, eyes glittering.
"So… you've met… Him?"
"Yeah," Charlie said, embarrassed at all the attention he was getting, children in the nearby beds were turning to look at him now. He quickly gave her his address, wincing again as she gave an excited little shout when he told her she'd have to talk to someone in reception and ask them to pass along the message to his parents.
Charlie waited for her to leave, but she just stood there, still grinning like mad at him. Charlie thought it was quite funny to see a grown adult practically bouncing on their heels at the mention of someone's name, but at the same time it made him feel a little, no, very uncomfortable. He didn't think he'd ever get used to being famous, it just didn't suit him at all, he was too shy for that kind of thing.
After a few more questions about Willy Wonka and the factory (on the nurse's part) and several short awkward answers (on Charlie's part) she left, almost skipping, to ring the factory and Rowan's mother.
Charlie let out a long pained sigh, looking over to where Rowan slept. He wished he were allowed to sleep, but he knew he better do what the nurse in A & E had said. He remembered something Mrs Bucket had told him when he had hurt his head at home before, she had said if you fall asleep directly after banging your head really hard you could fall into a coma. He gulped. Best not to tempt fate and stay awake instead he thought.
The next hour or so passed in complete boredom for Charlie. A nurse had only come over once to give him some mild painkillers for his head and foot, which now he was off it hurt a considerable lot more, so much so he wondered how ever he had managed to walk from the car to here. He spent the rest of the time thinking about things, like what he'd like to do to Martin and his friends, the reasons why they went after Rowan, and wondering when his parents would get here. Looking at the clock on the wall he estimated that they should be arriving soon, provided they didn't get lost. He began to wonder, 'Will Mr Wonka come and visit me as well?'
Another quarter of an hour flew out the window and there was still no sign of anybody. He was just thinking of asking the nurse when he heard noises from outside the ward. There was a great amount of chatter from there and the door swung open to allow a rabble of people through. There was Rowan's mother, his four sisters, Mrs Bucket, Mr Bucket and Grandpa Joe. It was then he realised he was looking right over the top of his family's heads for Wonka. He flushed ashamedly, as one of the older nurses made a loud "Shh!" sound in the direction of the crowd.
He saw them look around and Mrs Bucket point to him, then the headed over, the doorway behind them staying disappointedly empty. Mrs Bucket rushed the last couple of feet to his bed and enveloped him a huge hug, Mr Bucket and Grandpa Joe following more calmly, though still with the same worried expressions on their faces.
"I'm sorry it took so long for us to get here Charlie," said Mrs Bucket, her voice muffled, still in the midst of the hug. She then pulled out to talk to him properly, "we had to pick your father from the toothpaste factory, and then he had to beg them to let us borrow one of the company cars, and the signs are dreadful here, we got lost so many times," she said this incredibly quickly, and with tears in her eyes. "I'm just so glad you're okay! You…are okay, right?" her voice adopted a hesitant tone.
"I'm alright Mum, don't worry. There's nothing serious wrong, I just hurt my head and my ankle, and I'm very, very bruised." His mother moved immediately to his head to look at it. "Ouch! OUCH! Mum!"
Mrs Bucket moved away, "Sorry dear," she said, "I didn't realise it was so tender." Charlie got the compulsion to rub his head better, but restrained himself just in time because he knew that would only make it worse. A thought came to him.
"Why didn't you just take the Elevator here? It would have been a lot easier than borrowing a company car."
"We can't use the elevator without Willy, we've no idea how to drive it," replied Mr Bucket.
"Surely he would have drove you if you'd asked," said Charlie, looking once again to the door, "where is he anyway?"
Grandpa Joe scratched his head, "Ah, well that's the thing. To be honest Charlie, we've no idea. We asked one of those Oompa-Loompa chaps and it turns out even they don't know, either that or they're pretending they don't."
Now it was Charlie's turn to be worried, "Where do you think he could have gone?" he asked.
Seeing Charlie's anxious look, Mr Bucket waved his hand dismissively, "I wouldn't worry too much, he'll be around somewhere. Anyway, he's a grown man, it's yourself you should be thinking about at the moment. Whatever happened to you?"
So Charlie told them about Martin and his friends and how the White family had helped him and Rowan to the hospital, as he did so he watched Rowan's family out of the corner of his eyes, seeing his mum quietly scolding Rowan's youngest sister for trying to poke her brother awake. It seemed Rowan was a very deep sleeper. Part of the way through his retelling they all came over, wanting to know what had happened to him. This forced Charlie to have to start all over again.
"I will call the police about this!" Rowan's mother, Mrs Padell exclaimed at the end of the story, "I won't let those boys get away from doing… this, to my son!" She then stormed out of the ward heading to the payphone, her daughters in tow.
The nurse made another "Shh!" sound.
Mr Bucket looked at Charlie wearily, "Do you have to have any scans? Or do you just have to rest?"
"The nurse told me I have to have an X-ray for my ankle, I don't know when though."
"Are they going to do anything about your head? It looks awfully hurt," said Mrs Bucket, fussing over Charlie's blankets.
Mr Bucket leaned over to take a look, "They might give you a CAT scan," he watched Charlie's face melt into utter bewilderment, "no, it's not for cats," he said before he could ask, laughing.
The old nurse who had been shouting at people for making too much noise came over, Mr Bucket quickly fell quiet. "You're Charlie Bucket, correct?" she barked out, eying all Charlie's visitors irritably.
"Uh, y-yes."
"You and Mr Padell have to go to the X-ray room now." She looked over again to the Bucket family, "Visiting hours are almost over now, you'll have to leave."
"Oh! Wait Charlie, I'm almost forgot," Mrs Bucket said, whipping up her bag from by her feet, "I'll give this to you now, since we have to go. I didn't want you to spend the night alone here, so I brought your Mr Bear to keep you company." She pulled out an old chewed on bear with several patches and different coloured buttons for eyes and tucked it in to the covers next to Charlie, who was sinking down into his sheets, his face reddening. "Mu-um!" he moaned in embarrassment.
x
Far above this, at the highest point of the factory, and completely unaware of these events, Willy Wonka sat on the roof watching the moonrise, thinking.
x
1- 999 is the number you call in Britain for the emergency services.
2- NHS- National Health Service.
Oh, and I wouldn't suggest ringing Rowan's telephone number, it's actually the number for King's Cross train station! I just wanted a number in London.
Rowan's name is actually a joke, though a very lame one. All the names in the CatCF book are silly, so I wanted to go along with it. Rowan Padell: Row and Paddle. Ha ha, get it? Get it? …I know, it's lame. Then again, Chuck Bucket isn't much better really. :D