As the sun began to set over the little town, the cold October air persisted, forcing its way through every nook and cranny it could find. Evening shoppers wrapped themselves up against the bitter wind whilst smoke from miniature chimneys traced silvery lines across the dusk sky.
Two individuals could be seen making their way through the emptying streets, both bundled in thick coats, the smaller of the two protecting her hands by shielding them in her pockets. The other walked with a faltering step, a dark woollen hat pulled guardingly over his head. They were headed towards the edge of town, where only a few houses remained, most of which were old and abandoned, long forgotten by the townsfolk.
"Why are you limping?" she quizzed as they walked through the quiet streets, their breath billowing out like puffs of smoke.
"Because you kicked me," he defended, glancing at her from under his woollen hat. "In the shin," he added, and, after a momentary pause, "hard."
Em could sense him staring pointedly at her.
"Sorry," she mumbled, guilt nibbling at her insides. "You were going to give yourself away," she explained, "I had to."
She heard Mr. Wonka chuckle to himself and she scowled at the pavement.
This morning she had positively despised the man, and yet here she was, leading him willingly to her family home. He had worked his magical charm once again.
"My family won't be very happy to see you, I hope you realise," she warned, already dreading the moment.
"Well of course. How can I blame them?"
Em studied him briefly, his fair cheeks rosy from the cold, his expression thoughtful as he gazed into the distance. He sensed her staring and turned to look at her, Em focussing once again on the pavement in front of her.
"Emily," he resumed after a long silence, "about what Mrs. Beauregard said, back in the shop –"
Em felt her cheeks start to burn and she shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment.
"Please, Mr. Wonka, you don't have to explain," she babbled. "What she said was inappropriate and completely misguided." She looked at him assuredly. "She can tell the papers all the lies she wants, I'm not worried about what she thinks she saw or what she thought was going on between us."
She looked away once again and bit her lip worriedly. She didn't want to ruin this again for Charlie, not after everything he'd been through, and admitting she was developing feelings for the man who was planning on mentoring him was a big step in the wrong direction.
"She's just jealous that her daughter actually didn't win something for once," she joked awkwardly, "she's making up ridiculous lies."
"Yes, I suppose so," mused Mr. Wonka, sounding unsatisfied with her response.
Em couldn't tell if he was watching her or watching the path ahead; thankfully she was saved the trouble of finding out as her trusted, ramshackle home came into view, the small glow emanating from a crumbling window a welcome sight.
She took a deep breath as they approached the front door.
"Well, this is it."
Mr. Wonka followed her gaze and took a steadying breath of his own, removing his gloves and scarf in an attempt to make himself look slightly more presentable.
"Once more unto the breach dear friends."
Em looked at him quizzically, her lips drawing up into a slight smile.
"They won't kill you," she assured.
"Well, Ms. Bucket, let's hope you're right."
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Mr. Wonka."
Em looked around the meagre room cautiously, gauging her family's reaction.
She was currently stood in the doorway of their rickety house, the biting cold seeping in through the walls despite the tiny fire burning gaily in the corner; Mr. Wonka stood nervously beside her, a hesitant smile plastered across his personable face.
"Who?" yelped her Grandma Josephine doubtfully as her other grandparents let out disgruntled murmurs from their wobbly bed.
Her mother stared at her blankly, standing up from her seat at their narrow dining table, the cabbage she had been slicing rolling onto its side, abandoned.
"Emily, what is this? Why is he here?"
"Mrs. Bucket please forgive my intrusion," Mr. Wonka apologised, taking a step forward and removing his hat. "I'm here to speak with Charlie."
"He's out with his father, and I suggest you leave before they get back," her mother warned, taking a step away from the man. "Get out of my house."
"Mum!" wheezed Em in shock. She had expected them to react negatively to the man that had made her and her brother so miserable, but she had never heard her mother threaten someone before.
"No, Emily. This man treated you and your brother hideously, or have you forgotten that?" She stared at her sternly. "I don't want him in my home."
"Here, here!" piped up Grandpa Joe, Grandpa George jeering his hands nastily in agreement. Grandma Georgina clicked her knitting needles threateningly and Em's eyes went wide.
"All of you, stop!" cried Em, exasperatedly, taking a step further into the room. "Please, just listen to what he has to say. It's," she paused, "I was wrong, about what I thought happened. You can't be angry at Mr. Wonka."
"Oh, but on the contrary, they have every right to be angry with me," chimed Mr. Wonka, turning to Em with a simple smile.
Her mother looked at Mr. Wonka in bewilderment before nodding fervently in agreement.
"I do, however, beg that you listen to my explanation," he continued, Mrs. Bucket's bobbing head coming to a stop, "as it was never my intention to hurt Charlie, or Emily," he looked at her politely. "Once I have made myself clear I will gladly leave you in peace."
Her mother watched him suspiciously, her eyes narrowing.
"Go on," she instructed.
He obliged. Em listened once again as Mr. Wonka explained his elaborate plan, her mother's eyes growing steadily wider, her jaw dropping comically. Her grandparents listened intently from their bed, the four of them engrossed in his story.
"So, to be clear, my factory is Charlie's special prize," Mr. Wonka finished, smiling at them all simply.
Her mother stared at him in shock.
"You're joking."
"I would never jest about such a serious matter, Mrs. Bucket, I can assure you."
"I can't believe this," she sighed, lowering herself once again into her seat at the table, a shaky hand coming to rest over her heart. "Charlie can't run a factory. He's only a child, and we haven't got the money, and, and he's – he's got school –"
"Pardon my interruption, Mrs. Bucket, but I can assure you that Charlie's education is my top priority," vowed Mr. Wonka. "He can continue his schoolwork outside his work in the factory. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Mum," soothed Em, coming to sit next to her doubtful mother, "this is Charlie's dream. It's everything he's ever wanted."
"I know, Emily, that's why I'm so overwhelmed." Her mother's voice cracked, and she let out a joyful sob, her hand covering her mouth in awe.
Em felt a lump rising in her own throat and swallowed it down, her eyes lighting up as she grinned at the chocolatier.
"Mr. Wonka, you don't know what this means."
"Truly, I do, Mrs. Bucket," he smiled reassuringly. "Charlie is the most deserving young boy I've ever had the pleasure to meet. It would be an honour to work with him."
"Here, here!" sniffed Grandpa Joe once again, dabbing his eyes with the corner of the bedsheet.
Em laughed and made her way to her grandparents fondly, perching herself supportively on the bed as she removed her coat.
"Just wait till Charlie gets home, he'll be so thrilled," beamed Grandma Georgina to nods of agreement.
As if on cue, the wobbly door to their home groaned open and Charlie and his father appeared.
Charlie smiled as he spotted Em, shrugging off his own oversized coat. His face fell, however, as he spotted Mr. Wonka.
"What are you doing here?" he asked offensively, his innocent eyes full of distrust, his coat dropping to the floor.
"Charlie –"
"Get out of my house!" Mr. Bucket lunged at the man, his fists grabbing the collar of Mr. Wonka's coat tightly. "Don't you ever talk to my son again, or my daughter, not after what you did!"
"Dad!"
"Nathan!"
Em and her mother chorused in unison as Mr. Wonka stumbled backwards in shock, his slight frame crashing into one of the many beams holding the house up. The building let out an ominous creak as Mr. Wonka held his hands up in surrender.
"Nathan, calm down!" urged Mrs. Bucket, her chair clattering to the floor as she stood up sharply
"Dad it's okay! Let him explain!" begged Em, jumping up with her mother. "Charlie won!"
"I – I what?" stammered Charlie, his eyes flicking from Em to his father, before finally settling on Mr. Wonka.
Mr. Wonka, still pinned roughly against the wooden beam behind his back, looked down earnestly at Charlie.
"Charlie, my boy, forgive me, please forgive me."
Mr. Bucket's hands loosened as his wife laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I deserved that," he acknowledged, nodding in Mr. Bucket's direction before turning his full attention to Charlie. Em's father looked at her in confusion, but she simply gestured to her brother, encouraging her father to listen.
Charlie looked up at Mr. Wonka, his eyes wide.
"Did you say I won?"
"Yes Charlie, you won," Mr. Wonka smiled before continuing, his eyes studying Charlie attentively. "My factory, did you like it?"
"More than anything in the world, Mr. Wonka." Charlie looked down sadly, clearly remembering the wonderful day he had had, followed by the not so wonderful conclusion.
"Excellent," Mr. Wonka crouched down, craning his head to get a better look at Charlie's face, "because I'm giving it to you."
Charlie's head snapped up in shock and Mr. Wonka smiled.
"That's alright, isn't it?"
"Wh-why?" was all Charlie could stammer, his eyes searching the man's timidly.
"I know I won't be able to go on forever, and I don't really want to try," explained Mr. Wonka, shifting slightly in his crouched position. "Who can I trust to run the factory and take care of the Oompa Loompas for me when I leave? Not a grownup," Mr. Wonka narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room suspiciously, earning a small smile from Charlie and a chuckle from Em. "A grownup would want to do everything his own way, not mine; that's why I decided a long time ago I had to find a child to whom I can tell all my most precious candy making secrets."
"And that's why you sent out the Golden Tickets?" Charlie was enthralled by the man's words, his eyes as large as saucers, his voice barely above a whisper.
"That's right," Mr. Wonka nodded, "in the hope that I'd find someone very honest and incredibly loyal, and I did, Charlie. I never dreamed I would find someone as deserving as you." He placed a hand supportively on Charlie's shoulder. "So, the factory's yours, if you'll have it."
Charlie launched himself at the man, engulfing him in a tremendous hug and sending the two of them sprawling backwards. Em laughed as she clutched her grandfather's hand tightly, her mother letting out a startled cry as the pair skidded across the floor.
Mr. Wonka chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbows.
"Do I take that as a yes?"
"Yes, yes! A hundred times yes!" cheered Charlie as his mother attempted to pull him off the floor.
The room let out a collective laugh as Mr. Wonka smiled, heaving himself up onto his knees, his expression shifting suddenly to one of seriousness.
"But Charlie, don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted."
"What happened?" asked Charlie, suddenly alarmed.
"He lived happily ever after," winked Mr. Wonka, pulling Charlie into a more stable hug.
Em caught her mother's eye and they grinned at each other, Charlie detaching himself from Mr. Wonka and running full speed at Em. He launched himself onto the bed and she pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Mr. Wonka," coughed Mr. Bucket stiffly from his wife's side, "I'm, uh, very sorry about earlier." He nodded to the beam he had previously shoved the chocolatier up against, offering his hand in recompense.
"That's quite alright, sir, no harm done." Mr. Wonka grasped the offered hand and pulled himself up, nodding his thanks in return.
"Mum! Can Mr. Wonka stay for dinner?" hollered Charlie, from his spot on the bed. Em grimaced at the idea of forcing Mr. Wonka to suffer through a bowl of lukewarm cabbage soup, her mother mirroring her thoughts.
"Charlie, I think we'd best let Mr. Wonka get home."
Charlie frowned at his mother, looking over to Mr. Wonka hopefully.
Mr. Wonka acknowledged his stare, walking - or rather, limping, Em noted guiltily - towards the edge of the bed where the siblings were perched.
"Thank you, very much, for the offer Charlie," he smiled politely, "but I have one last question for you."
They all looked at him expectantly, Charlie leaning forward eagerly. Mr. Wonka took a deep breath.
"Would you and your family do me the honour of moving into my factory?" Mr. Wonka raised an eyebrow slightly before adding, "immediately."
"For real?" breathed Charlie, Em's eyes widening in disbelief; Mr. Wonka hadn't mentioned that part of the plan.
"For real," chuckled Mr. Wonka.
"All of us?" questioned Mrs. Bucket in disbelief, hand over her heart.
"All of you," smiled Mr. Wonka, glancing around the room, his eyes pausing momentarily on Em – although she may have imagined it – before landing back on Charlie.
He burst into a huge smile, his head nodding instantaneously.
"Mr. Wonka," exhaled Mrs. Bucket, "we couldn't possibly –"
"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Wonka, startling them all. "So, you'll do it?"
"I'll do it!" cheered Grandma Josephine, throwing back the bedsheets in approbation, her skinny legs twitching excitedly as she attempted to push herself out of the bed.
"And me!" chorused Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina in unison, mirroring her attempts. Grandpa Joe even got so far as to heave himself out of bed before Em truly realised what was happening.
"Oh my goodness," gasped Mr. Bucket, rushing over to the elderly residents. "Pops, take it slow! Get back into bed!"
Em watched the ensuing chaos in awe, her cheeks hurting from laughing as her mother rushed to her father's aid, attempting to shepherd the elderly occupants back into their bed. She moved out of their way as Charlie began to jump excitedly on the mattress, his mother's reprimands falling on deaf ears.
"And you, Ms. Bucket?"
She jumped as Mr. Wonka's voice surfaced her from her thoughts. He was looking at her expectantly, an intensity deep in his eyes.
Em thought carefully, about everything that had happened. About her job, about the factory, about their beloved house; she had grown up here, it was her childhood home after all. Could she leave it all behind? Fond memories were buried deep in the very foundations of the shack, and, despite his undeniable charm, she'd only just met this man. Could she uproot her entire life for him?
But then she saw the expressions on her family's faces, the undeniable joy lighting up their eyes, Charlie's laugh the loudest of them all as he searched for his sister, and she realised she wouldn't be doing it for Mr. Wonka, she'd be doing it for her brother.
"It would be an honour, Mr. Wonka."
His face morphed into a relieved smile which Em couldn't help but return. He gently placed her palm in his and laid a light kiss on the back of her hand. She felt the familiar butterflies materialise in her stomach but Em ignored them, directing her attention instead to Charlie and her grandparents. She laughed as Grandpa George tottered away from Mrs. Bucket's outstretched hands, her skin tingling from where Mr. Wonka had placed his lips.
So what if she'd developed a bit of a crush on the chocolatier? Crushes disappeared over time, and she was positive this would be no different. She just had to give it some time and it would pass.
Unbeknownst to Em, her brother was hoping for just the opposite outcome, and he wasn't the only one.