"More? Of the hot chocolate? Oh, certainly. Certainly, my puppet. There, now, and don't look so worried. Smile, do. There we are. You seem to have some misconception that I am an unkind man, and - "
"Oh, no, sir, I - "
Wonka held up a finger and gave Nicole a fixed look down his nose. "Now, don't interrupt."
"Sorry, sir."
"You are forgiven. Now, as I was saying...Er...Oh, goodness, what was I saying? Do you recall? Oh, yes, of course. Hot chocolate. It's quite efficient to make, you know, and I've no objection at all to sharing it. As a matter of fact, it's rather pleasant to have someone to share it with. I've been rather hoping to expose it to someone other than the Oompa Loompas," he smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling in the lamplight.
"Er, glad to be of service," Nicole stated with a shy smile, and meant it.
"Hmm...but I would hate to bother the Oompa Loompas again...I usually just get it myself, but I can't leave you all alone...heaven knows what you'll get into..."
"Oh," Nicole said, slightly hurt, and the moreso because she knew there was truth in his words, "You don't have to...I don't need anymore."
But Wonka wasn't paying attention, his gaze now focused somewhere past Nicole's wide eyes, and it became apparent he was thinking. After a bit more staring and contemplation, Wonka seemed to reach a conclusion, and clapped his hands on his thighs.
"I suppose it couldn't do much harm. Would you like to come to the kitchen with me?" he inquired. What sounded like such a trivial question was much more portentous when Wonka said it. After all, when your mother invites you to come to the kitchen, the greatest treat you are likely to get is a fingerful of cookie dough...goodness knows what the wonderous Mr. Wonka could give you! These were the very thoughts that were in Nicole's mind when she happily answered:
"Oh, Yes, that would be lovely!"
"All right." Wonka began to stand, but then turned and gave a small moue. "But you mustn't poke about, you understand. You follow me, and don't touch anything!"
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of it," Nicole assured him earnestly.
"All right, then. Up you get, young lady. Up! Good. On we go."
"Right this way, my duckling," Wonka instructed, turning to face his young guest as the two of them continued down the featureless hallway. He'd brought his cane with, and was twirling it jovially, whistling to himself a bit and taking a step back for every few steps forward, causing their progress to be rather stunted. Nicole had to walk a number of paces behind him just to keep from bumping into him every time he did that. "Don't dawdle, my dear, don't fall behind. Don't touch anything. Don't look about. Don't breathe too loudly. Don't make that face, you'll get stuck like that."
Nicole giggled quietly at Wonka's seemingly unconscious ranting. She doubted he was even aware of himself doing it.
The hallway abruptly became a labyrinth, catching Nicole completely by surprise. One second, it had appeared to stretch to infinity (and beyond!) in front of them, the next it curved sharply off to the left. And the right. And there was a ladder leading upward. Not to mention a hatch leading downward.
Nicole balked at this sudden oddity, but Wonka was unphased, confidently leading the way. First they went left, then right, right, left, forward, left, left, left, left, left...that soon caused Nicole to frown and point out that they were going in circles ("So we are! I suppose we'd better stop!"). Right, forward, left...Nicole soon lost track of which turns they'd taken, and walked a bit closer to her guide, fearing getting lost.
The walls were changing, now. They were slowly fading to transparency, or so Nicole thought. But after another couple of turns, she realised that they were, in fact, mirrors. Hundreds of them, from floor to ceiling, covering every bit of wall. Nicole watched as thousands of Willy Wonkas stopped twirling their canes to avoid destroying the walls. She looked on as thousands of Nicoles stared in wonderment about themselves. A quick appraisal of her physical appearance found her wanting, and in a fit of self-consciousness, she tried to attractively dishevel her hair so it wouldn't look quite so limp from the rain. She also wished she wouldn't look quite so round, from the sides, but no amount of fluffing or mussing would make her look thinner, so she didn't even try.
It was also beginning to get colder. Nicole pulled her sweater close around herself and shivered slightly. She paused for a moment, to watch herself in the mirror as she repeated the action. She smiled. She rather thought she looked like a sad, hungry kitten when she did that. Self-esteem slightly raised, she continued on at the heels of Mr. Wonka. Or she did so until she ran headlong into the mirror in front of her. The feet she'd been following so diligently disappeared in a flash of black.
"Oh!" Nicole cried suddenly, "Mr. Wonka! Wait!"
There was no response.
"Mr. Wonka!"
She was alone.
"Help! Mr. Wonka!"
Still nothing but the eerie echo of her own voice. Her breath caught in her throat as a sudden vice of fear gripped her heart. She reached out and steadied herself on a nearby mirror.
She was not against mirrors, by any means, except in the literal sense, at the moment. As a matter of fact, being a young girl, she was quite fond of them, or at least of attempting to perfect her reflection in them. She found them quite handy to have around. But to be surrounded by them, and to be alone was frightening and unnerving for her. It hadn't been so bad when Wonka had still been there. It was scary, to be sure, but his confidence had been a huge reassuring factor, and now it was gone, and Nicole was scared. To watch thousands of copies of herself shudder in unison, to be able to see the back of her own head as her light brown hair stuck out at odd angles as she moved...Terrifying. It was also giving her quite the headache.
So she did what any sensible person would do. She closed her eyes. As soon as she did, she felt instant relief. It seemed much easier to see, now. She chuckled a bit at the irony, and began to feel out her surroundings. Well, she had come from behind her, and there was wall in front of her. So she would have to take one of the forks. She chose left.
"Mr. Wonka! Please, I'm lost! Mr. Wonka!"
Nicole sighed and fretted. What had her father always told her about mazes? She knew it was something that had always struck her as a genius idea...he would mention it, sometimes, when the family would watch a mystery movie on the television (the only amount of tv that Nicole indulged in). Blast it, memory, what was that marvellous piece of advice?
Follow the wall, that was it! If she kept her hand on the left wall and followed it, always taking the left fork, then eventually she would have to end up somewhere...It might take some time, but it would work. Probably. In Wonka's factory, anything could happen.
"Mr. Wonka! Mr. Wonka!" she called out, eyes shut, groping along the wall as if she were playing a strange new version of Marco Polo. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no one else about to play, for all her calling went unanswered. She used her free hand to hold her sweater shut, for the cold was beginning to intensify, almost enough to make her teeth chatter.
She kept on, willing herself not to cry. It was all right. She would get out of here. After all, it was only a chocolate factory. Granted, a very strange and magical chocolate factory. A very strange and magical factory, that was potentially dangerous...But, no, Willy Wonka was an adult. And he wouldn't be so irresponsible as to let something happen to her. Adults were conscientious and caring, and he would find her soon...wouldn't he? Nicole had to admit that she was not at all sure. After all, she had intruded on his property, poked around in his personal belongings, pulled him from his work, drank his secret hot chocolate, and generally made a mess of things. Maybe he'd been so appalled by her greed in asking for a second mug of the steaming beverage that he'd decided to teach her a lesson, and was going to leave her in this terrible place forever! Perhaps she would freeze to death and he would make her into some sort of Nicole-flavoured sweet! Or an ice cream! Perhaps she would starve to death, her only company the thinning reflections of herself, stretching on into infinity...
At this point, Nicole was in hysterics, and though she fought them, tears still streamed down her round, pink cheeks like paratroopers into war. Her shoulders shook with shameful sobs, and she was just beginning to feel very, very sorry for herself when she heard a familiar voice.
"I say, my dear girl, didn't I tell you not to poke around?"
Nicole's weeping eyes shot open to behold a tall, thin, slightly eerie figure. The walls were back to normal, and Willy Wonka stood before her. He'd somehow gotten rid of the cane, and his hands, now sporting lavendar gloves, were resting reprimandingly on his bony hips. Nicole was so pleased to see him that she very nearly threw her arms around him and wept copiously into his chest.
"I'm sorry, sir," Nicole apologised, settling instead for wiping the tears away from her eyes and sniffing, "I got lost, I - "
"Oh, are those tears? My dear girl, don't worry so! Though, I suppose, yes, this labyrinth can be frightening to those who don't know how to navigate it. But don't fret, my pet. Goodness, that rhymed, didn't it? I say, I am a poet and I didn't mean to. Oh, no, that isn't at all how that goes, is it? I'm afraid I'm quite unsure. Come, come, my dear, we haven't all right. Well, actually, we do have all right, but certainly we don't want to be this chilly for the remainder of the nacht, do we? Come, now."
"Why is it so cold, Mr. Wonka? Aren't we indoors?" Nicole asked, as she took up step again behind him.
"Well, I've always thought that hot chocolate tastes better if the rest of you is cold, don't you agree?"
"Oh. I suppose so, yes."
"Precisely. I should have thought it was obvious. You certainly have a strange way of looking at things, not to have noticed it. Very strange indeed, my dear girl."
They found themselves in Wonka's chambers not too long after that, having enjoyed their chocolate in the kitchen, watching the Oompas wrap up their projects and get ready for bed. Their conversations were quirky but pleasant, and Nicole found that Wonka was rather a fascinating person, if you could get past the eccentricities.
Nicole sat awkwardly at the foot of Wonka's bed, while he himself leaned majestically up against the deep mahogany headboard, taking a small break from his bizzare - but interesting - stories. Suddenly, he gave a start and began patting himself absently.
"Goodness, I'm beginning to be quite fatigued. Yes, very sleepy indeed. What time could it be?" Wonka reached into a pocket and extracted a gold pocketwatch on a chain. He flipped it open and took a gander at its open face. "Well, it could be nine-o'clock, or possibly four. Who knows, perhaps even half-past seven, if we're lucky! So many times it could be, but I suppose I should ascertain what time it actually is, to be at all helpful. My goodness, me! Oh, dear, it's nearly midnight!" He gave Nicole a meaningful look.
She looked back, her eyes full of sad reluctance. She did not want to go, but she didn't wish to impose by asking to stay. This was not lost on her host. Wonka gave her a tiny Look, and then a small sigh, and after these little gifts had been given, he turned and opened a drawer in his nightstand. He pressed a small red button, and a screen descended from the ceiling. He turned a dial here, then flipped a switch there, and pressed a rainbow of buttons hither, thither, higgledy-piggledy and pell-mell. The smell of rain wafted into the room, diffusing the warm chocolate smell with its chill, refreshing moisture. Then, assaulting the assembled pairs of ears with its erratic tattoo, came the near-deafening sound of water sluicing out of the sky in sluices, draining down drains, and streaming down streams.
"Goodness me!" Wonka exclaimed, "It's raining cats and dogs!"
His finger automatically found the Oof button (he'd misspelled the sticker when labelling them) and pressed it. Just before the screen winked out, Nicole was sure she heard the shriek of an agitated feline, as though it had just fallen from a long way up. Wonka's eyes travelled to the young girl again, emotion unreadable running rampant through their blue depths.
"Your family will want to know where you are," he said, though he knew he was defeated before the battle had even begun.
"They might not even notice I'm gone," Nicole countered promptly, letting hope flood into her voice, "I have five brothers and sisters. And if they do, they won't fret. They know I always come back in the morning!"
Wonka made a small exasperated sound in the back of his throat. "Well, I couldn't send you home in this rain, anyway. You'd almost certainly get lost, and you've had enough soaking for one night. I suppose you can stay."
"Thank you, sir!" Nicole exclaimed, though she reined in her excitement a second too late, and now smiled embarrassedly, gingerly removing her impulsive little arms from Wonka's suddenly stiff and unwelcoming torso. He laughed nervously as she released him, and regained composure after a moment or two.
"Yes, well. I suppose I ought to show you to a room, then, shouldn't I?"
"Yes," Nicole conceeded, eyes automatically averring. She felt the weight from the bed beside her disappear, and then stood up, herself. She followed the chocolateer into the hallway, which was somehow deepest maroon in colour, and with beautifully carved decorative lamps fixated to the velvet-lined walls at intervals.
"Right this way, it's not too far," Wonka said, not seeming to notice the change, "I had some guest rooms installed, goodness knows why, but I've misplaced all but one of them. However, it's easy enough to find. It's right here, as a matter of fact...if it's a bit dusty, I apologise, I'm sure I've said I - Oh..."
He trailed off, and Nicole peered underneath his arm to have a look into the room. Or what was left of it. There was about a half-foot of floor beyond the doorway, before a sheer drop down into blackness. Wonka pinkened and shut the door. "Oh, yes. I forgot that it was the Unwelcome Guest Room," he gave a nervous little laugh, "In case I ever have in-laws, which doesn't seem likely. Er, perhaps this door over here would be more suitable..."
This door was rather plain-looking, with a faded golden handle. Wonka turned the handle and opened it up. Before Nicole could peer past him, however, he shut the door again quickly, the highest spots of his cheeks a remarkable crimson colour. He grinned nervously again, looking down at his guest, and spoke. "Er...you definitely don't want to go into that room. I really should actually just have it locked, I think. Forever. No matter...let's move on, shall we?"
He pulled open another nondescript door, and came face to face with the hugest, ugliest, most frightening fish that Nicole had ever seen. It's gargantuan mouth opened threateningly, showing mammoth, sharp, putrid teeth. Slime dripped grossly from each greenish tooth, floating away in the water which seemed to end, without the aid of glass, right at the doorway. It sauntered forward, insofar as a fish may saunter, preparing to gobble up Wonka and Nicole for a midnight snack. Wonka seemed frozen with horror as the fish's mouth widened ever further. Nicole screamed. Then, to Wonka's pained dismay, the fish let out a huge, deafening rendition of 'Climb Ev'ry Mountain', until it was cut short mid-"Raaaaaainbow!" by the door slamming shut. Wonka turned to Nicole and looked vaguely sickened, but managed a smile, anyway.
"The Singing Whommly," he whimpered, "Is that where I put him. How lovely."
"Are you all right, Mr. Wonka?" Nicole asked, solemnly.
"Yes, my dear," he replied weakly, stumbling down the hallway, "Perfectly fine. Just a little fish-breathed, is all. I shall recover in a moment."
Wonka decided that it was not worth the risk of checking more doors, and in any case, he didn't want to wake a couple of Oompa Loompas to stand guard over her. Nicole wasn't sure whether that would have been a precaution against her sneaking about the factory, or if it was to protect her, in case the Singing Whommly escaped and wished to sing her showtunes.
Nicole was to spend the night in Wonka's room.
"You don't have to sleep on the floor, of course," Wonka offered kindly, "Just find anywhere that looks nice to you and settle in, my dear."
Nicole immediately homed in on the high-backed chair on the south wall; maroon and black striped, with a couple of plush pillows on it. It looked comfortable enough, so she made her way to it and sat upon it.
Wonka had somehow disappeared in the second or two she'd not been watching him. She shook her head in wonder and tried to lay down on the chair. Unfortunately, it was not quite big enough for her to lie on it comfortably. She was curled up just a bit too much, and her neck hurt a lot when she tried to shift positions.
After a few more moments of fidgeting, Wonka reappeared in the doorway.
"If you need the bathroom, it's just through this door," he announced, indicating the room behind him, "You might wish to brush your teeth."
"Oh, yes, that would be good," Nicole replied, standing, eager to escape the unpleasant confines of the chair. She headed to the room behind Wonka, brushing past him slightly - he was so warm! - and looked into the room before her. "What toothbrush should I use?" she called out to Wonka.
"You mean you didn't bring your own?" Wonka answered, incredulously.
"Er...No, sir," she replied, and knew that it was pointless to say that she didn't anticipate needing one.
"I'm sure you didn't bring a towel, either, then."
"No, sir."
Wonka sighed audibly. "There is a tin of mints on the vanity. Eat one of those - just one, mind you! They're very strong - and that should do the job."
"But...it isn't my breath I'm concerned about, it's my teeth..."
"Yes, yes, of course, my dear. You don't think I would recommend you eat more candy before bedtime unless there was a good reason, do you? They're Cleaning Mints. They keep your teeth clean for hours after you eat them."
"Oh," Nicole said. She found herself saying that a lot in the presence of Wonka. It took a lot of effort and self-esteem to remember that Wonka had a strange way of thinking, and that she wasn't just a complete prat intellectually.
When she returned to the chair, the lights were out, and Wonka was making a pleasant sawing sound that indicated his unconsciousness. Nicole giggled slightly and settled herself onto her bed for the night. It was terribly uncomfortable to lie on. Nice enough for simply sitting, but just not conducive to sleep. Still, she was willing to try.
It was a little less than an hour later, and Nicole was still awake. Despite her valiant attempts at repose, she could not bring herself to fall asleep on the chair, despite the late hour. She just couldn't. She'd been battling with herself for some time now, weighing her options, deciding just how much she was willing to impose on Mr. Wonka. She supposed she could leave and go home - the rain must have abated, by now - but she still didn't know the way out of the factory, and anyway it was incredibly rude to leave in the middle of the night without so much as a good-bye. Eventually, she sighed quietly and stood up. She gingerly approached the foot of Wonka's bed, then inched forward until she was standing just in front of him. She leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"M-Mr. Wonka," she hissed in his ear. He flinched, slightly, and Nicole immediately withdrew.
"Mmmf? Zzznah? Wha? Who are you?"
Nicole paused. "Er...I'm Nicole Heltquist."
"How on earth did you get into my bedroom?"
"Um, you let me in."
"I did? Oh, I did...didn't I? Good heavens, me, I'm sorry, my dear. I'd forgotten you were here. Whatever can be the matter?"
Nicole tried not to be hurt or confused that he didn't remember her, after all that had happened, and instead answered him. "I'm so terribly, terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but...er...I can't sleep."
"Oh, my apologies. Is there...is there anything I can do to help?"
Nicole swallowed. She did not want to have to ask what she was about to, and she could tell that Wonka didn't want her to ask it, either. But her lips were moving before she could frighten herself out of it.
"Er...sir, would it be imposing to ask to share the bed? It's just...it's such a large bed, and the chair is so uncomfortable..."
Wonka seemed reluctant, as she knew he would be, and tapped one of his freakishly white teeth with a fingernail thoughtfully.
"Well..." he began, at length, "Do you hog the covers? Toss and turn? Snore? Talk in your sleep? Walk in your sleep? Kick in your sleep? Wet the bed? Have cold feet?"
"No, sir. Not that I know of, sir."
"Well, then go ahead and lie down," he instructed, and Nicole was happy to oblige, revelling in the soft satin sheets, in the warmth of the down comforter. "Just so you know," Wonka added, turning just his head to face Nicole, "I do all of those things. Occasionally at one time."
"Yes, sir."