Friendly warning to those people allergic to fluff: This is, amongst other things, a Wonka / other character fiction and fluff is a possibility from this point on. As is clotted cream and a lemon called Bob…
Rosanna could not help but be fascinated by the way the Oompa-Loompas drove the delivery truck. Working in a team of four – one to steer, one for the pedals, one for the gears and one to relay messages – they had managed to guide the truck across town without any of the mishaps she might have expected at, for example, traffic lights. The front seat was a large, purple bench and she was sitting between the drivers and Willy Wonka. This arrangement suited her perfectly, as it meant she had his undivided attention for most of the journey.
"What did they ask you?"
"Oh, all sorts. Some kid had the idea that the Oompa-Loompas were a slave race and tried to quote his history lesson on the abolition of slavery," said Willy with a grimace.
"That must have been – awkward – for you," sympathised Rosanna.
"Not really. After all, they are free to leave any time they like. Some still have family back in Loompaland and send part of their pay home, to much rejoicing so they tell me. Most of the Oompa-Loompas live in my factory now though – Loompaland is far too dangerous for such a gentle people," Willy smiled dreamily as he thought of his last trip out to the island many years ago, recalling vividly the ritual where he'd been accepted as part of the tribe.
"Where do they live? In the chocolate room?"
"Oh gosh no, they have their own village. If you like, I could ask their chief if we can visit them one day."
"An entire village? Inside the factory?"
"Yes. You'll love the cute little treehouses they've built."
"I'm sure I will. Did you say you had to ask the chief's permission to enter?"
"Yes."
"But, if it's your factory…"
"I respect their privacy. They respect mine. And part of that respect demands I don't go wandering through the village without asking their chief."
"I see." Rosanna looked sideways to the four Oompa-Loompas on her right. They were swaying ever so slightly in time with the faint, tinny music from the radio and she wondered what kind of culture they'd had before being brought to the factory and exposed to Willy's music collection. She supposed she could always ask the chief, assuming she was allowed to enter the village.
"What would you like to see today?"
"Why don't you choose? After all, we don't have the elevator and I bet you could pick out the highlights."
"If you insist," said Willy, looking out the window as they passed the shops on the main street opposite the factory. Rosanna saw Willy's face contort with ill-suppressed rage as the shops of Prodnose, Fickelgruber and Slugworth whipped across their vision, candies and chocolates piled high in the windows. Rosanna felt a guilty desire for some of Fickelgruber's ice cream, but suppressed it knowing that Willy would be awfully betrayed if he found out. Besides, if what she'd heard about the ice cream was true, it was Willy's recipe anyway and she'd be able to ask for a sample at the factory if the craving didn't fade.
Once inside the factory, Rosanna tilted her head to take in the look of the now familiar hall. She wondered at how lonely the factory must have been when it was first closed, picturing the eccentric Willy Wonka pacing the empty, echoing, barren hallway, mulling over the mistake of sharing his secrets with his workers. Perhaps there had been tears in his eyes as he walked through the large hallway, the huge, empty factory closing in around him. It wasn't as hard to imagine as one might think – the room was virtually soundproof and if it hadn't been for Willy and Mr Bucket then Rosanna would have been quite alone. She shuddered and turned to Willy, finding him in deep conversation with Mr Bucket.
"I hope you don't mind," said Willy, Rosanna catching what seemed to be the tail end of the conversation.
"No, not at all, thanks for watching out for him," said Mr Bucket, placing a hand on Willy's forearm and nodding appreciatively. Willy gave a serious nod and looked down, pulling back to turn and face Rosanna.
"Ready for the tour?" he buzzed, throwing a dazzling smile in her direction.
"Yes – can we go to the chocolate room again first?"
"If you like. Leave that," he pointed at the rucksack, sneering slightly, "here though," said Willy, heading off up the hall. Rosanna dropped the rucksack and trotted after him, Mr Bucket bringing up the rear. Once inside the chocolate room, Rosanna sighed happily at the fantastical sight, part of her wishing that the rest of her life could be spent in here, looking up through the skylight at the clouds above while her senses were assaulted by the sights, smells and sounds of chocolate production. Her happy reverie was rudely interrupted by the appearance of Mrs Bucket, who let out a loud shriek as she espied Willy, rushing over and dragging the chocolatier into a choking embrace.
"Are you alright?" cried Mrs Bucket. "We were so worried when you said you'd had a crash!" Willy, bent over with his head at an awkward angle and his neck crushed on Mrs Bucket's shoulder, flailed his arms desperately behind her back, unable to see the fleeting look of jealousy on Rosanna's face.
"Air!" gasped Willy, breaking free. He straightened his coat and looked at Mrs Bucket. "Thanks for your concern – it's really sweet of you but I'm fine. See?" finished Willy, holding his arms out at shoulder level and turning around slowly, modelling the fact he was perfectly unharmed.
"What happened?" asked Mrs Bucket. As Willy recounted the story again, Rosanna settled down on the grass and watched while he waved his arms around excitedly as he described his brush with death with the usual showmanship. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so drawn to this man. Could it be the slight whiff of chocolate every time he walked near her? She didn't want to believe she was rapidly falling for someone based on the way they smelled after a day's work – there was something far too, animalistic, about that kind of attraction to associate with Willy Wonka. She marvelled at the way he bobbed around whilst talking – she'd rarely seen anyone as mobile as Willy when describing one of his great adventures. He paced, waved his hands, smiled, grimaced, demonstrated events and occasionally jumped while talking to Mrs Bucket, and Rosanna smiled as she watched, glad to see him relaxed after the chaos of the morning. She felt honoured to have seen him during what must have been a rare fragile moment on the evening of the circus, hoping that the experience would show Willy it was alright to open up and share his feelings with her, whatever they may be.
Willy turned to Rosanna and raised his eyebrows.
"Ready for the tour now?"
"Yep," she answered, standing reluctantly and giving one last look at the chocolate room as they headed out and into the hallway. Willy steered her to her right and they slowly climbed a long, sloped corridor through one of the several identical steel doors.
"Rosanna?"
"Yes?"
"How long are you in town for?" asked Willy, the question seeming to have been playing on his mind.
"I hadn't really thought about it. I was going to stay in the hotel until after I'd been to your factory, but then I asked you to dinner and needed to stay an extra few nights as a result. I haven't really thought about what happens next."
"I guess you need to, as we'll see most of the interesting rooms today and I don't know that you'd want to come back again."
"Yes, I would! Of course I would! I want to see everything! Every room!" said Rosanna, more enthusiastically than she'd meant to. She was starting to worry that her dwindling supply of cash was going to run out before she had a chance to establish even a friendship with Willy and the easiest solution seemed to be to pretend her only concern was visiting the factory.
"It might take some time to do that," said Willy. "There are hundreds of rooms here."
"Hundreds?"
"Even I don't know how many," he whispered, stopping walking and staring at the floor. He had been thinking about whether Rosanna would be staying in town or not since he'd found out she was staying in a hotel, vaguely aware that to do so cost money, but the realisation she might leave some day soon hadn't really dawned on him until the last few minutes.
"Are you okay?" asked Rosanna, touching a light hand to Willy's arm. Willy closed his eyes and bowed his head a little, withdrawing into the panic he felt at the thought of losing a – friend – so quickly, then sprang forwards and twirled to present a nearby door to Rosanna for inspection.
"Lemon Sherbet Travel Sweets!" he grinned, revealing slightly too many teeth. Rosanna followed him into the room, interested to see how the little chalky sweets that had saved her pride on the previous tour were made. She was almost disappointed to see large vats of lemons and white powder, emptying into a large, circular tub stirred by a mechanical arm. The chalky circles were formed in moulds inside a large, square machine that looked far too normal to belong in Willy's factory. She circled the room and looked up – ah, there it was. A spiral staircase led above the machines and to a room above, a circular window in the centre of the room revealing what looked to be a lemon grove in the balcony area. She raced up the stairs and through two doors, the second covered by a fine net. She looked around her, the lemons on the trees impossibly large and ripe for this time of year. Then again, the entire factory was more or less climate-controlled – who's to say Willy couldn't keep the lemon room at the optimum temperature for the lemon trees? She watched a group of Oompa-Loompas pick the lemons from a tree and dump them into a large hopper for washing.
"Do you grow all your own fruit?" she asked as a large, multi-coloured butterfly flapped lazily passed her face.
"No, just lemons, oranges, snozzberries, strawberries and apples. The rest is imported."
"From where?"
"I have my sources…" said Willy, a little mysteriously.
"Why the insects?" asked Rosanna, swatting at a bee.
"To pollinate the flowers on the trees. Didn't they teach you anything at school?" he grinned cheekily and picked a lemon from the nearest tree. "Catch," he called, tossing the lemon to her. Rosanna caught it automatically and sniffed the fruit, the lemon tang of the skin pleasantly contrasting with the smell of chocolate permeating through most of the factory. "Shall we move on?" said Willy, leading her across the room and through another airlock into another sloping corridor. Rosanna looked down at the lemon in her hand. It was strange to think of fruit existing in this world of candy and make-believe and the innocent little lemon seemed oddly out of place. She thought about what Willy had asked earlier and realised that her real world worries of finding somewhere to live had no place in here either. She suddenly understood that it must have come as quite a shock to Willy when something as real as the nasty world of industrial espionage had found its way into Wonderland.
A few hours later and Rosanna and Willy were sitting at a table in the clotted cream room, eating a typically English snack of a cream tea. The lemon had been seated with some ceremony next to the sugar bowl, having been christened Bob by Willy who had read psychology texts in his spare time and who had also managed to convince Rosanna that it was fun to pretend Bob was a real person. Rosanna helped herself to the cream and jam on the table and reached for a scone. Trying to be a lady, she fought the urge to pile her scone as high as possible with the excellent cream. She put down her knife daintily and looked over to Willy, who was now fastidiously tidying the edges of the neatly applied cream with a knife such that it did not stick out over the end of the scone. Rosanna watched as Willy carefully bit into the end of the scone, nibbling a tiny amount and completing the manoeuvre without any crumbs or cream dropping onto his plate. Rosanna looked down at her rather untidy scone and knew that the moment she lifted it to her lips, a blob of cream would fall and land on her blouse, probably marking it for the rest of the day.
"So, what do you like best about what you've seen?" asked Willy. Rosanna fought the urge to answer with the word 'you' (which she thought would sound decidedly too girly for her) and thought instead about the rooms she'd visited that morning. The lollipop room had been fun, as had the large chocolate bar moulding room, despite the fact she'd seen only boring old machines in that one.
"I like the gumball room – I had no idea that you tested them for bounciness before releasing them for sale," she giggled, remembering the sterile 'testing area' where gumballs were fired into an enclosed room, only the bounciest reaching the required height on the rebound to be selected for sale. "There's so much – I don't think I could pick a favourite."
"Neither can I."
"If forced, I might say…"
"The chocolate room?" finished Willy, grinning as Rosanna nodded.
"How did you know?"
"I saw your face again today – you love the place don't you?"
"I think I might." Rosanna softened her smile as she looked into Willy's face. Please, oh please, she thought, let me come back and get to know you and your perfect world a little better, you crazy candyman. She bit into her scone without looking and, as predicted, felt the slight weight of a blob of cream on one of the accursed ruffles on her blouse. She swore and dabbed frantically at the mark with a tissue. Willy watched with a mixture of disgust and amusement. He didn't generally like messy eaters, but there was something endearing about the way Rosanna was so desperate to clean herself up after the accident. He felt another pang as he remembered she might not be around for much longer and cleared his throat nervously.
"Have you thought any more about what you might do after the tour?" asked Willy.
"No, not really," said Rosanna, her annoyance changing to a sadder look as she contemplated her limited options.
"Any chance you could still work with horses?"
"None really. I'm too proud to be a stable hand and I suppose I might get a job somewhere as a riding instructor, but I don't really like being around children."
"Why not?"
"They remind me too much of He…" she stopped.
"What?" asked Willy.
"It doesn't matter."
"Please? I thought we were friends, and friends shouldn't keep secrets from each other," said Willy, sensing that this was dangerous territory and noticing the pained look now crossing Rosanna's face. He cautiously reached out and touched her hand, giving an encouraging nod as she looked up at him. "Go on," he urged.
"I don't think you'd really be interested."
"Why don't you tell Bob?" asked Willy, picking up the lemon and pretending to whisper into its 'ear' and listen to the reply. "Bob's very interested." Willy replaced the lemon on the table, this time in the centre, and folded his hands on his lap to listen to Rosanna.
"I'm not sure Bob would understand, it's not like he has any experience with these matters."
"How is Bob to learn if you don't teach him how to understand?"
"Willy, why are you trying to use logic to justify my talking to a lemon? It's not like he's a real person." Willy reached over and covered Bob's ears with his hands, a fake shocked expression on his face.
"Don't say that! You'll hurt his feelings!"
"Sorry Bob," said Rosanna sarcastically, slightly annoyed with Willy. She snatched at the lemon and looked at it with forced regard.
"Well, Bob, since you want to know, I don't like children because they remind me of a man called Heath."
"Who's Heath?" asked Willy. "Sorry to interrupt," he added, nodding to 'Bob.'
"He was my fiancé."
"Fiancé? So you did have a boyfriend?"
"Yes. We met at the riding school I trained at and we went out for some time before getting engaged. He was funny and proud and handsome."
"Oh," said Willy, feeling suddenly inadequate for some unexplainable reason. He wasn't sure he was funny, knew he was too proud and was probably not handsome as he was now within eleven months of his fortieth birthday and far too old to be such a thing. "What happened?"
"When I had the accident, Heath was wonderful. He stayed at the hospital, brought me flowers every day, sat by my bedside and promised that he'd stay with me no matter what." Rosanna's face had grown cold and there was a bitter tone in her voice as she continued, all pretence of a light conversation now gone as she placed 'Bob' down on the table. "He promised he'd never leave."
"And then?"
"And then he found out that the accident had left me unable to have children and he changed somehow. Not right away, but the flowers didn't come every day and there was something missing when he kissed me." Rosanna blinked to stop the pain coming back to haunt her. Willy felt his heart ache as he imagined how much Heath's betrayal would have hurt Rosanna when she'd already been through so much. He knew from experience how it felt to have promises broken and hated seeing anyone disappointed – the hollow feeling inside damaging his mood in a way he couldn't begin to describe. He didn't want to see her like this – he preferred the strong, independent Rosanna who threw reeking laundry at him and could force him to apologise in public.
"Did he stop coming to visit?" asked Willy.
"No. I told him to. I knew he wanted children and after a few months it became obvious that that was more important to him than me. He stayed with the riding group for a while and I joined the circus. The last I heard of him, he was happily married with children." Rosanna looked across the table at Willy, who was lacing his tea with enough sugar to rot the teeth of ten Oompa-Loompas while lost in thought. He can't cope with the idea, thought Rosanna, I shouldn't have told him. He's probably scared half to death by this. She ate the rest of her scone in silence, watching for any reaction from Willy.
Willy, quite from being unable to cope with the situation, was already thinking of ways to help Rosanna feel better. It was true that a girl had never hurt him – he'd been far too busy for them – and so he had no idea how it felt to know that someone you loved had betrayed you. However, he could certainly sympathise with being abandoned and left defenceless, and knew how hard betrayal was in general, even though he'd never loved. He stopped spooning sugar into his cup and looked across the table at Rosanna.
"I'm so sorry," said Willy, reaching over and touching Rosanna's hand.
"Thanks." Rosanna looked down and a tear rolled down her cheek. Concerned, Willy froze and watched the tear fall and felt another pang of pain. He couldn't let her carry on feeling like this – there had to be something he could do to make her feel better. "Sorry," Rosanna gulped, "just being silly." She wasn't sure why talking about Heath with Willy had made her feel so awful – perhaps it was because he hadn't judged her and was simply being honest when he said he was sorry for her. Her parents had blamed her for the break-up, which seemed grossly unfair given the circumstances. She knew that they'd told her to give up riding repeatedly throughout her brief career in case she got hurt, and she had tried hard to convince herself that her mother hadn't been slightly satisfied to be proved right. Her father had been no better – it was he who had kept her informed of Heath's new family, and reminded her that she could have been the happy, devoted wife. Unbidden, angry tears flowed and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
"Hush," said Willy, unsure of what to do next. He covered his mouth with one hand and frowned, sorry he'd ever brought up the subject of what Rosanna would do next. The shadow of a memory clicked into place as Rosanna gulped for air and tried to steady herself. He wasn't supposed to be stopping her – he was supposed to be comforting her while she cried. "It's okay – you cry. I'll be right here," he said, drinking a quick draught of tea and trying to figure out what to do next.
A minute later and Rosanna still hadn't recovered – if anything she had withdrawn into her own misery. As Rosanna shook a little more, Willy put down the cup and walked silently around the small circular table, steeling himself for what part of him demanded he do next. He rubbed his hands nervously together, glad for the comforting protection of the gloves, and crouched next to Rosanna's chair. Tentatively, unwilling to touch her in case he made matters worse, Willy extended a hand and gently stroked Rosanna's left arm. She shuddered a little, letting out a pained groan and sobbing into her hands, covering her face.
"I'm so sorry Willy." Her sobs redoubled and Rosanna started to hate herself for doing this – Heath had been a distant memory until the other night at the restaurant and now, instead of focusing her attention on Willy, she was wasting time crying about how Heath had hurt her. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't be crying!"
"Why not? He obviously hurt you," said Willy, tapping his hand vaguely on her shoulder. He reached up to her face with his left hand and slowly prised her hands from her face, helping her to lower them to her lap before hesitantly wiping a tear from her cheek. "That's better, you don't need to hide from me Rosanna."
"Not hiding," she sniffled.
"Here," said Willy, pulling out a handkerchief from a pocket and handing it to her. She took it gratefully and dabbed at her eyes, calming herself and accepting the small comfort Willy could be given his aversion to touching. "Feel better?"
"No. But I'm sure I will at some point. Sorry for being silly by crying."
"Crying's not silly. Talking to lemons, now that's silly," he told her gravely, shaking his head. "We may need to get you some help, dearest," he added, sighing and looking down with a sad look on his face. It took Rosanna a few seconds to realise he was joking and she laughed as his expression changed from depressed to grotesque as he pulled a face at her.
"You wally," she muttered, cracking a smile.
"I'm pleased I cheered you up. I like you better this way."
"Why?" asked Rosanna, drying the last of her tears and tucking the handkerchief into her jeans pocket, knowing Willy wouldn't want it back in its current state.
"You look more like yourself," said Willy, wondering if now would be a good time to break the habit of a lifetime and give her a quick hug to make sure she felt better. She'd done the same for him, after all. "You're much prettier without tears running down your cheeks and red eyes," he said, starting to lean forwards and fighting his nerves to allow him to give her a friendly hug.
"You don't say," said Rosanna flirtatiously, batting her eyelids. Willy suddenly froze, all thoughts of hugging Rosanna forgotten as he scooted backwards and stood with his back against one of the vats of clotted cream, his right index finger pointing accusingly at Rosanna, eyes bulging and lip sneering in fright.
"Don't ever do that again!" he shrieked.
"Do what?"
"That voice – the words – eyeballs – don't do it! EVER AGAIN! Please…"
"Why not?" Rosanna stood and walked slowly over to where Willy was now shaking. He took a few breaths to calm himself before answering, meeting her questioning stare with what he hoped was a sensible, reasonable expression. He actually looked quite sick.
"You reminded me of a person I don't like very much – that's all." He gave a silly grin as he dismissed the idea of Rosanna being anything like Mrs Beauregarde and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Are you feeling better?"
"Yes, thanks," she whispered, drawing a bit closer to Willy as she wondered why he'd taken fright.
"Oh marvellous!" said Willy, internally turning cartwheels about making her happy. "I'm so pleased we can continue the tour! Would you like to see the rock candy mine?" he walked forward and took one of her hands in his, dragging her to the door to make up some time.
"Yeah. Sounds wonderful," she muttered, following Willy out of the door and down the corridor. It was only a few minutes later, as they turned a corner and took another corridor sloping steeply downwards that Rosanna realised Willy still hadn't released her hand, dragging her along the hallways faster than she was comfortable with in eager readiness to show her the rock candy mine. Rosanna smiled at the realisation and hoped that it indicated he was starting to lose his aversion to her.
Willy finally stopped outside a pair of large iron doors, next to which were hanging a number of miniature red hard hats. Next to these were four normal-sized hard hats, one of which Willy unhooked and handed to Rosanna, selecting another for himself and removing his top hat to put it on. Rosanna felt a little silly as the plastic hat crushed her hair around her ears and looked up to see Willy wearing his hat with little concern for his appearance. He knows he looks good, thought Rosanna. Willy reached over and straightened Rosanna's hat for her, smirking as he rapped the top of the hat twice with his knuckles.
"Ready for an adventure?" asked Willy. Rosanna nodded and Willy placed his cane and hat next to the doorway before putting a hand to the centre of the left-hand door and pushing it open. A blast of sweet air rushed out and hit Rosanna in the face. Willy stepped through the door and held a hand back beckoning her in. A little scared, but more than a little excited, Rosanna stepped through the giant iron doors and they slammed shut behind her, plunging them both into total darkness.
Instinctively, Rosanna gave a shocked cry and reached out her hands to grab at anything around her. The 'anything' that came to hand was Willy's coat sleeve and she clung to it desperately, feeling foolish for having cried out. There was a click and the lights in the room came on, revealing a short walkway in front of them to an industrial lift shaft heading down through the floor into a deep, dark pit.
"Sure you want to go down there?" asked Willy, looking down at her hands and wondering if this had been a good idea after all. Her hands were tightly clenched, creasing the red velvet mercilessly in her double grip on his coat.
"Of course," said Rosanna. "Will we be going down to 10,000 feet?" Willy led Rosanna to the edge of the pit and they looked down through the lift shaft before he answered. There was an odd breeze lifting up from the depths.
"No – we'd need breathing equipment. There are ventilation shafts, but they don't reach that far down."
"Do the Oompa-Loompas work down at those depths?"
"Yes. But rarely. Coming?" asked Willy, stepping into the steel cage of the lift and pulling his left arm after him, Rosanna still intimately attached to the fabric of the sleeve.
"It is safe?"
"Would I send the Oompa-Loompas down there if it wasn't?" asked Willy, looking mildly offended when she didn't answer straight away. Rosanna shuffled into the lift and Willy pulled the guard across behind her, hitting the 'down' button as soon as the cage was secure. As the lift descended into darkness, Rosanna felt dreadfully insecure. She hadn't realised how unnerving it was to travel down into the earth and was suddenly worried about being stuck down here forever, the prospect of being buried alive stirring memories of old horror films. To her relief, after plunging downwards for only ten seconds, the darkness was broken by lights fitted into the lift shaft walls. The shaft opened up into a cavern and as they travelled down she saw side shafts and cross seams being worked by skilled teams of Oompa-Loompas, the black, sticky rock candy looking remarkably like coal.
"How deep are we going?" asked Rosanna, looking around at the mining lights twinkling like diamonds around them.
"To 900 feet. There's a cavern down there we use to sort the candy before it is sent to the surface," said Willy, looking down through the iron grill grating of the floor. A faint light was growing steadily brighter as the lift descended and Rosanna could have sworn that the intensity of the sweet taste in the air was also increasing. She shivered – it was getting colder the further down the mine they travelled. Willy noticed and smirked. "Guess you should have worn a thicker shirt," he scolded her in a light tone.
"I didn't know that I'd be doing this – be fair!" She removed her hands from Willy's coat, rubbing her arms in an effort to keep warm. The lift plunged into the circle of light below them and Rosanna blinked to accustom her eyes to the brighter surroundings. They were in another, larger cavern, brightly lit by electrical lights that had been fitted to the black rock surfaces around them. The lift came to a rest at the bottom of the cavern, the tall walls towering over fifty feet above them. Rosanna shivered a bit more as she took in her surroundings – the sheer enormity of the room dwarfing them both. All around her, Oompa-Loompas were engaged in the task of sorting the mined rock candy, loading it onto a conveyer belt that led away into a tunnel in the wall.
"I call this the Cathedral Cave – because of its size," said Willy.
"It is impressive," said Rosanna. "Where does the conveyer go?"
"To a series of lifts and then to the surface."
"Why is it so cold?"
"To stop the candy from melting. The vents," Willy pointed at the ceiling where four large enclosed fans would be seen spinning in their cages, "provide cold air to supply oxygen and keep the temperature down. Needless to say, I had to invest in thermal underwear for the miners." Willy laughed and Rosanna tried to join in, her teeth chattering too much to laugh properly.
"But the air at the top is so hot?"
"That's not from the mine – it's from the cooling system. It works on a similar principle to a refrigerator – that's why the back of your fridge at home is warm but the contents are cold. Simple heat transfer."
"Willy?"
"Yes?"
"Fascinating as this is, I'm freezing!" Rosanna's hands had gone white and she was sure her face had turned a similar hue. She was convinced her nose had turned to an ice block and hoped it wouldn't start running. Willy sighed, irritated at being interrupted and turned to regard Rosanna. He took in the white face, flushed cheeks and blue lips and decided she was probably justified in her interruption. He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her.
"Here." Rosanna looked up in surprise and took the coat gratefully, pulling the coat around her and feeling the warmth still lingering in the cloth starting to thaw her frozen body.
"Thanks. How do I look?" she held her arms out and gave a silly smile. The sleeves were far too long for her and the coat was too big around the waist to flatter her in the slightest. Willy gave a short chuckle and turned away, not trusting himself to avoid insulting her with the truth. She looked short and weird and it was strange to see his coat on a woman, let alone one with blue lips and red cheeks.
"Gee, thanks for the compliment Mr Wonka," huffed Rosanna, not really offended. Willy turned back, ready to apologise for laughing until he saw the mischievous glint in her eye.
"Don't mention it," he drawled dryly. "Come here, I want to show you something." He trotted over to a sorting table, red hat bobbing up and down as he jumped over stray pieces of rock candy. Rosanna followed at a more cautious speed, not daring to jump in case she missed her footing. She was starting to think that beige mules were a poor choice for touring a mine. Willy picked up a small piece of rock candy and held it out to her, turning the nugget over and over to allow it to catch the light. "Isn't it pretty?"
"It looks like coal, but shinier," answered Rosanna. "What will happen to it next?"
"First of all it goes up top, then it's refined and mixed with sugar before being turned into the end product." He sniffed at the nugget and pulled a small knife out of a trouser pocket, cutting off the tiniest flake and letting it dissolve on his tongue slowly before swallowing. "Want to try some?"
"Okay…" said Rosanna. She liked rock candy, but was a little apprehensive about trying to eat something that for all intents and purposes was identical to a lump of coal. Willy cut another tiny flake and gave it to Rosanna. She put the flake into her mouth and nearly vomited in disgust – the rock candy tasted of burnt sugar mixed with something else that seemed to dry out her mouth completely. She gagged and swallowed, only then looking up at Willy who was watching her with polite interest, only a hint of amusement playing in his eyes.
"I did say the rock candy needed refining and sweetening before sale," he said.
"But you ate some! Why didn't you react like that?"
"It would have rather spoiled the surprise, would it not?" Willy grinned at Rosanna and reached over to her, unbuttoning his coat from around her chest. Rosanna felt her pulse race as she wondered what he was doing and was a little disappointed when he reached into the inside pocket and pulled out the travelling sweets, popping one into his mouth with haste to rid himself of the taste of raw, unrefined rock candy. Willy misinterpreted the look of disappointment for sickness, quickly taking a second sweet and holding it in front of Rosanna's mouth. "Open," he instructed. Rosanna opened her mouth just enough for the sweet to enter and Willy touched it to her lips, allowing her to take the sweet in her teeth without his actually having to touch her face.
"'nks," said Rosanna through the chalky lemon tablet in her mouth.
"Want to go back up?" asked Willy. Rosanna nodded and Willy led the way back to the lift as she cuddled further into the coat around her, glad that Willy went in for thick velvet. The silk lining was pleasantly soft and she shuffled inside the overlarge coat comfortably, snuggling into the material. Willy noticed her squirming and stopped walking to watch for a moment. "Nice isn't it?" he asked her. "The silk is from China – it's the softest I could find." There was something very, warm, about watching her enjoying wearing his coat, even if it meant that he was now physically a little colder than was comfortable inside his waistcoat, shirt and vest (Willy had followed few of his father's instructions as regards clothing, but for some reason the 'never go out without a vest on' advice had stuck). He'd also have to get the coat cleaned before wearing it again, but perhaps that was a minor inconvenience in the circumstances.
"Um, yes," said Rosanna, not wanting to admit that the most inviting thing about snuggling into the coat was the heavy scent of Willy's cologne clinging to the fabric. She hadn't noticed it before, always assuming that he was content to smell of chocolate or whatever else he was working with. The cologne was nice, a fresh scent that reminded her of walking in a forest in springtime. Willy held the gate of the lift open for Rosanna and she hopped in next to him, shaking her head as Willy turned to secure the guard rail in order to clear it. The journey back out of the mine took little time and Rosanna felt the warm air from the surface ruffle her hair as they broke through to the mine entrance.
"Anything else you'd like to see?" asked Willy, leading the way back into the corridor. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. "Great grizzly geckos, it's six o' clock! I'm going to be late for dinner." He snatched the red hat off Rosanna's head, hanging it with his own outside the door of the rock candy room. He picked up his top hat and cane, pulling the hat over his ears as quickly as possible.
"Oh, I suppose I'd better be going then," said Rosanna, folding her arms in front of her.
"Why don't you stay? Mrs Bucket wouldn't mind."
"I couldn't spring that on her, it wouldn't be polite."
"Tomorrow then?" asked Willy, desperate to see her again but a little unsure as to why.
"If you like," said Rosanna, pleased that he had asked so she didn't need to make another excuse to come back. Willy smiled and looked down at Rosanna.
"I would. I will have fixed the elevator by tomorrow – I'll pick you up at five-thirty."
"Okay." Rosanna followed Willy as he led the way up the steep slope of the corridor and up to the main hallway. Rosanna could feel that she was dreadfully tired after the day's events and was content simply to be in Willy's presence, not bothering to make idle chit-chat.
Willy, also tired, occasionally stole a glance over his shoulder at the shorter figure now trotting along behind him. The thought occurred to him that despite the fact he'd seen Rosanna in a pink fairy costume in extreme close-up, a cocktail dress and her normal clothes, she'd never looked better than she did now, hurrying along dressed in his coat and with her hair messed up from the hard hat. The dreaded butterflies returned and he looked away, realisation suddenly dawning and stopping his breath. Forcing himself to keep walking and sending conscious instructions to his diaphragm and ribs to keep moving, he allowed the unbidden thought into the front of his mind. He liked her. He had suspected that Rosanna wanted more from him than just friendship, never entertaining the concept that he might return that desire. Perhaps she had never wanted to be more than friends and the signs he thought he'd picked up were all just in his own head because he wanted to…? What exactly? What did one do in this situation? What did he want?
The factory doors stood solid and unforgiving in front of them as they arrived at the entrance. Willy swallowed down the butterflies and turned to Rosanna with a brittle smile.
"Here we are, heh," he announced, the nervous laugh returning with ingratiating speed as he looked at her face. How could he have not realised sooner? An Oompa-Loompa arrived with Rosanna's tatty rucksack, which looked as though it had been mended and cleaned since that morning. The Oompa-Loompa bowed and handed her the rucksack, Rosanna immediately rummaging through the freshly laundered clothes for her mobile.
"This was very kind of you – thanks," she said quietly to the Oompa-Loompa who nodded and crossed his arms before bowing in response. Rosanna wasn't sure what to do next, but Willy motioned for her to return the bow and she did so awkwardly, the rucksack still clutched in one hand and the mobile in the other. The Oompa-Loompa grinned pleasantly at her and walked away.
"I gave instructions to have your clothes cleaned for you as I realised you wouldn't have time to do it yourself," said Willy.
"Thanks. I'm just going to call a taxi." Rosanna dialled the number and paced around the hallway as she instructed the taxi where to pick her up, Willy watching her all the while and trying to fight the urge to cry. If he did like her like that there was a real risk he was going to mess up their friendship and scare her away – like the other day at the mountain. Suppose she wanted nothing like that to do with him and decided to stay away from him so she didn't give him false hope? And then there was that business with Heath. Stupid name anyway. After the way she had cried today, she clearly still had feelings for him. Willy felt crushed at that and turned to look at the factory door, staring at it with enough intensity to bore a hole through the cold metal. He heard Rosanna finish the call and turned to face her as she walked to meet him.
"Are they coming for you?"
"Yes, the depot's only ten minutes away and they're not busy so someone's coming right over."
"That's nice of them." Willy slipped a hand into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out his chequebook, a surprisingly bland HSBC grey cover seeming out of place. "Could I have my pen please?" asked Willy, pointing to his coat. "Inside pocket." Rosanna produced the pen and handed it to Willy.
"What are you doing?"
"As a friend, I am providing you with a loan of one thousand pounds. Use it as you wish – my advice would be to extend your stay at the hotel before making up your mind what to do next. You don't want to rush into, for example, buying a flat in London several miles from the nearest riding school without thinking it through first," he finished, scrawling his signature across the bottom and ripping off the cheque, holding it out to her. "I won't insult you by simply giving you the money – you can pay me back when you have the means to do so." Rosanna's first instinct to refuse the money was crushed by Willy's closing remark and she took the cheque soundlessly. Of course, the money was nothing to Willy and it would help her to stay around for a bit longer, which could only be a good thing.
"With interest?" asked Rosanna.
"No. Definitely not."
"If you insist. Thanks, by the way."
"No problem," said Willy, gripping his cane nervously. Rosanna noticed the gesture and guessed (correctly) that this was the first time he'd helped someone out financially. She decided to break Willy's rules about touching and walked up to hug him, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. She felt Willy shake a little but ignored this and closed her eyes, listening to the rapid pulse beating in Willy's chest, trying to ignore the fact his arms were stuck out by his sides like a limp scarecrow. Drifting for a second in a warm, scented, soft world, Rosanna knew her decision to pursue the chocolatier was the correct one. She opened her eyes and looked up at Willy's face.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he whined back. He wasn't sure that his rules had included her hugging him when she needed a hug and he felt naked and vulnerable without his coat and the pretence that he didn't care for her as more than a friend.
"I'll wait at the gates," said Rosanna, backing off.
"I'll walk you," replied Willy, opening the factory door and leading the way, offering his arm to Rosanna to escort her to the gates. She took his arm and they walked silently to the gates, Willy trying to reconcile his childish instinct to run with the other instinct that was telling him to never let Rosanna out of his sight again. They reached the gates and Willy pulled one open, heading out onto the pavement with Rosanna following him closely.
"I had a wonderful time today, Willy," said Rosanna.
"So did I. It will be nice to have a dinner together again."
"It will."
"Rosanna?"
"Yes?"
"Coat please," said Willy, holding out his hand out to receive it as a taxi swung around the corner and pulled to a halt. Rosanna smiled and removed the coat, passing it to him and stepping towards the taxi.
"I'll see you tomorrow," called Rosanna, getting into the back of the taxi and leaning forward to tell the driver where to head to before winding the window down and waving to Willy.
"Goodbye," called Willy, waving his right hand vaguely and watching the taxi until it had disappeared from sight. His hand slowly curled up finger at a time and he lowered his arm to his side, a little sad to have made so little of their goodbye. He walked back through the gates and locked them behind him, pleased for once that there was such a long walk back to the factory. There was a certain amount of privacy permitted by the factory courtyard and Willy used this to his advantage, pressing his face into the lining of his coat and inhaling deeply. The silk tickled his face as he caught the hint of roses and vanilla from a cheap French perfume that had lingered on his coat. He stood there for some time, face pressed into the coat, eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him as he considered the strange yet pleasant new emotions he was experiencing for the first time. When it started to rain, Willy lowered the coat and headed back into the factory.
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