I got a shock recently, when I realised just how close this story is to being finished. Given I started it without a clue of where it was going (beyond that it would focus on how Charlie, and family, settled into the factory) that really was a surprise. It just said to me that it had achieved all it needed to, after I finished rough drafting one particular chapter. And that it was therefore time to start to wind it up.

Yes, that does mean that I have the rest of this pre-written, and beyond the fact that I know many of the themes are overwhelming, what is dictating the posting schedule is just when I manage to get into those rough drafts and give them the tidy up they require. So, heads up, there are around five chapters left after this one, and then, unless things change, we are done!

My thanks once again to those who have read, and particularly those who have reviewed - I am aware that the themes are complex, and that it could be difficult to find something to say on that score. Turrislucidus, I'm really enjoying seeing your thoughts on what is happening with the various characters here. Thank you.

You have that right Linkwonka, I'm hoping that Charlie will come to understand this as well. I hope that you enjoy the way this progresses.

Sonny April... It is always hard to see relationships break down, and I think it can happen so easily. Then it's a lot of work to get them back on track again - always supposing those concerned think it's worth the effort. Anyway, I'm glad you are enjoying it.

I took the idea of engine oil flavoured food, and the probable consequences thereof, from an Alistair McLean novel, probably "Partisans." As far as everything else goes, if you recognise it from elsewhere the chances are it doesn't belong to me.


Time with Willy

The rest of Thursday passed without much worth commenting on happening, though Charlie did give Joe a wide berth. He had no intention of giving the older man any excuse to lash out at him again.

The latter stomped around the suite in a way that convinced everyone else that it would be better not to ask what had happened. Joe was best left to himself when he was in this mood. To do otherwise was simply begging to have your head bitten off. Ellie did glance around the family looking concerned though. It was obvious that something big had happened that day.

Charlie, for his part, was mostly silent. He was still pondering everything he had heard so far, and he took advantage of his now usual habit of sitting and listening to the conversations of those who surrounded him. He was still revelling in the refuge this granted him.

Friday was equally quiet, though Joe was less of a grouch, and acted less gruffly towards Charlie. Not that the boy acted any the less hesitantly towards him though. How on earth did you learn to trust someone who pushed you across the room in a fit of temper? Charlie wondered.

It was with a sigh of relief that Charlie retired to bed that evening, safe in the knowledge that the following morning he would be able to escape the family home, and spend some time relaxing with Willy.

In the end, it was James who picked Charlie up in the morning. Willy had been called away at the last second by the Oompa-Loompas, who needed him for some essential maintenance and decision making that simply could not be put off any longer. James was at least able to offer the reassurance that it should take no more than an hour for the various tasks to be completed though.

Charlie wrinkled his nose in disgruntlement, before shrugging his shoulders and contemplating that Willy did have a factory to run, and that Charlie himself had done well for seeing his mentor recently. He couldn't complain about the loss of one hour. As Willy might put it, that would be churlish.

Given that he was with James, Charlie decided it was a perfect opportunity to ask him what he thought love was…

James' answer intrigued Charlie.

"Love is about listening, really listening, rather than just thinking you know what the person you are talking to is going to say, and really caring about what is going on with them. It's about trying to understand what they are going through," James told him.

Charlie's jaw dropped at the simple succinctness of this answer. It blew him away. So many times Charlie had experienced people 'listening' to him, without actually letting him complete his sentences, instead jumping in and finishing them for themselves. They were, as a rule, utterly convinced they knew what he was going to say, but often they were wildly wrong, and thoroughly confused the situation by putting their own spin on Charlie's thoughts.

People who didn't wait to see what Charlie actually wanted to say would find, in the end, that the boy gave up trying to have meaningful conversations with them. They didn't really want to listen, they weren't really interested, so he would limit their discussions to small talk, and otherwise let them think what they would.

The idea that some people would actually listen properly, and respond to what the person they were talking to had actually said, was beyond Charlie. It was a new concept, and one that thrilled him. Maybe James was right, maybe that was something to do with love.

Charlie noted the answer down, deciding that he quite liked it as a way to judge how far people were actually interested in him, rather than what he could do for them, but that it probably wasn't a complete answer.

The following time of reflection was spent sitting quietly with James, waiting on Willy to return from wherever his work had taken him that morning, contemplating all that had been said by the different people he had spoken to so far. The time spent thinking things through convinced Charlie that as much as he liked it as an answer, it just couldn't tell the whole story.

Given how multifaceted love appeared to be, as far as he could judge by the bewildering array of answers he had already received, an answer so short, so simple, so appealing, simply couldn't tell the whole story. It was a brilliant description as far as it went though.

When Willy returned, James departed to attend to his own affairs. A short while later, mentor and heir headed to the inventing room. Willy was eager to kick-start Charlie's apprenticeship in this area.

The morning was mostly spent having Charlie experiment with flavours – developing his understanding of tastes which worked well together, and those which definitely did not. Willy spent much of the time encouraging the boy to be adventurous in throwing ingredients together. The more absurd Charlie was prepared to be in mixing unusual flavours together, the better his understanding of what worked would be, the more intuitive his thought processes would become.

In his early days, Willy had often surprised himself with just how well some of the most unlikely seeming combinations had turned out. Some of those experiments were amongst his best sellers now.

"Learning in candy making is encouraged by making mistakes," Willy pontificated, remembering some of his wilder creations with a secretive smile. "It is only in experiencing something done badly that one has the opportunity to learn. It is only in finding out what flavour combinations you don't like, that you might come to work out which ones could work well together. Oftentimes you can be surprised by just how tasty some of the strangest mixtures can taste.

"Every product we sell goes through several panels of taste testers, because there are so many different people with so many different ideas of what they like. That ensures that only the best ideas leave the factory.

"Flavour, and a keen appreciation for it, is one of the most important things for developing new concepts in confectionery."

Then Willy lowered his voice to a whisper. "This is one area James utterly failed in. His taste buds were decimated when he spent some of his young adulthood working on a boat. He tells me that most things ended up tasting of engine oil. What else could you expect when you had run out of soap weeks before, and the cook doubled as a mechanic? There being little option when one was at sea for weeks on end, you ate what was put in front of you, or starved. Engine oil does not broaden the palate, it kills it!"

Then, as he saw Charlie's consternation, Willy hastened to explain.

"That was at least thirty years ago Charlie. And a war was going on. I would hope that things are done rather differently these days."

Charlie looked aghast. "But isn't engine oil poisonous Wonka?" he asked, horror ringing clearly through his tone. Willy smiled at him, a comforting gleam brightening his eyes for a moment.

"I certainly wouldn't advise drinking it Charlie!" he admitted. "Thankfully, it was only present in such minute quantities that it merely effected the flavour of the food, and annihilated the taste buds of those who consumed it. Hansard has assured me that otherwise James is in peak condition."

When Charlie nodded his understanding, a smile of relief seeming to light up his features from behind, Willy returned their joint attention to the flavour experiments he was having Charlie conduct. With each small addition of flavour, he had Charlie make a note of the results, and whether it was a combination he would wish to make use of in the future.

The two spent two hours in the inventing room, often holding their sides as they shook with laughter, tasting an array of weird and wonderful flavour combinations.

On several occasions Charlie found himself groaning in pain through his mirth, as he simply was not used to laughing so much. Upon seeing this, Willy would flash a grin at him and say something even more ridiculous, causing Charlie to double up once again, voicing his complaint at his mentors tactics by grunting out his name in a whimper of protest.

"Willy!"

Despite the fun and games, Willy continued to make sure that Charlie noted down the various combinations they threw together, and then wrote some of their thoughts on each flavour alongside the description.

He also instructed Charlie on the need to cleanse the palate, by means of munching on a segment from an orange, to neutralise the flavour of foodstuffs previously consumed, and taking a mouthful of water, to wash away any lingering debris, between flavours. This was an essential part of the process, Willy informed Charlie, otherwise, one taste test would be bound to interfere with the flavour of another one, and the conclusion reached would be unacceptably tainted.

They quickly decided that the flavour, pea, walnut and mango was a dismal failure, though there were one or two surprising finds. Charlie was amazed when he realised that he particularly liked the pineapple and pistachio mix. That could eventually end up being included as one of their flavours in the future.

He enjoyed it even more when Willy suggested they add some cucumber to the mix as well. Charlie had been blown away by the gorgeous flavour they had discovered in such a strange combination. So much so that he could not contain his amazement that Willy instinctively knew something that could be added to the previous mix that would turn an already enjoyable flavour into something even better.

"Willy! That's superb! How on earth did you know it would work? I would never have guessed!" gushed Charlie, a look of such complete wonder on his face that Willy was stunned into silence for a moment. Then, the chocolatier snapped back into business mode, smiled, and gave Charlie's now questioning look a one word answer.

"Experience." Then he turned Charlie's thoughts back to the matter at hand by suggesting he try vinegar, cranberry, and coffee bean. The resultant mix was as vile as it was strong, and it took Charlie a few minutes to get over the coughing fit caused by consuming a heaped teaspoon of the concoction in a rapid, impulsive fashion.

The last strange mix Willy suggested had tasted great, surely this one would be utterly divine? Charlie reasoned with a big grin, before the sharpness of the vinegar caught at his throat, causing him to disgorge the mouthful into his hand, as his body noted its strenuous objection to the mere idea of actually swallowing anything with such strong, clashing, flavours.

Willy smiled to himself, noting how hastily Charlie had inhaled the mixture. What else could he expect, sampling such vast amounts of such a bizarre combination of flavours like that? Some concoctions were best savoured in small doses, and anything containing vinegar, particularly when laced with strong coffee, fell well inside those parameters.

Then, having glanced over to be sure that Charlie's water glass was topped up, Willy turned his attention to his own portion, tasting it in a far more decorous fashion.

When Charlie finally recovered himself, he cleaned the mess of the rejected mouthful from his hand with a nearby tissue, wiped his watering eyes, and took a large sip of his water to take away the last sting of the flavour. Pausing for a moment to consider what the experience had taught him, he caught the sound of Willy's low tones, as the older man took another hesitant lap at his own heaped spoonful, rolling the minute amount of the mixture this sampling technique produced around his tongue, deep in thought.

"Hmmm, maybe if we added some cream to that, it would offset the sharpness of the mix, and possibly offer a mildly palatable flavour."

The mere idea that Willy could be interested in doing anything more with such a horrendous combination caught at Charlie's funny bone, and the next thing he knew he was shaking with laughter once again. A moment later, Willy, jolted out of his contemplation, caught the sound of Charlie's suppressed giggles, and found himself starting to chuckle also. All thought of work ceased for another few minutes as the two gave in to their irrepressible laughter.

All hilarity aside, by the time they finished for the morning, Willy was content to count it a good day in the inventing room. For his heir's first real experience of time there, it had been filled with unparalleled delights, and he felt burgeoning hope that future visits would be just as productive.

Productive in terms of enjoyment as well as in experimentation, and in developing the boys understanding, Willy amended. All three were practically a requirement for inventing room time. Willy knew never to try to experiment if he was upset. He had tried that in the past, it never worked out well, and could lead to injury, if things went particularly poorly.

With another fleeting grin, Willy decided that it was almost time to herd Charlie back to the residential quarters, in order to prepare for the rest of their day together.