A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys and gals! Hat tip. Longer one this time: Fabulous Spitting Rainbow Drops to the one who finds the origin of the teacher's name.

Invention 4: Chocolate Birds
'Now children, watch carefully.'

Miss Laura Engel couldn't help wringing her hands slightly as she addressed the class. The tiny four and five year olds regarded the visitor with a mixture of wide-eyed wonder and slight fear. Miss Engel had to admit she wasn't entirely comfortable in his presence either.

'Anyone who is allergic to chocolate, please put up your hand.'

No result: so far so good. At this question, he had grimaced very slightly. He still hadn't taken off his huge, goggle-like sunglasses either.

'Children, this is Mr Wonka, the chocolate maker. Some of you will know his shop in Cherry Street.' Now they were interested, sitting up straighter, some even folding their arms in readiness for the volunteering that was sure to follow. Miss Engel smiled and continued. 'Mr Wonka has something he wants you all to test for him.'

Now he did take off his sunglasses, surveying the children with twinkling lavender eyes. 'Good morning!' His manner reminded Miss Engel of the lonely red squirrel that lived in the tree outside her house. Several children were smiling unconsciously. 'Now, I'd like one volunte--' Immediately, every hand was in the air, all except one in the front row.

Mr Wonka turned to the boy. 'What's the matter? Donchya like chocolate?'

The boy, round faced with dark curly hair, scowled. Miss Engel moved in. 'Mr Wonka, Noah doesn't like to participate very much.'

'Well we'll have to change that, won't we? You see I need exactly thirty different children to try this out, and if you don't try it as well, I'll be one person short, 'kay?'

Noah's scowl faded slightly; Miss Engel privately suspected the long, winding sentence had confounded him a little, but said nothing. Mr Wonka turned a dazzling smile on the children again and produced a tall, cellophane bag.

'Are those Mini Eggs?' piped up Jason Small.

Mr Wonka looked affronted. 'Wash your mouth out with soap, li'l boy. These are a special kind of chocolate egg, much better and tastier than those ones nasty Mr Prodnose makes. I need one volun--'

Again, all hands shot up, and the ensuing cries of 'Miss! Miss! Look I'm folding my arms, miss! I've been good all week miss! I've got a sticker today miss, pick me!' made the chocolate maker stop with his mouth open.

Miss Engel stood up and clapped her hands for quiet. 'Settle down, settle down.'

Mr Wonka gave her a grin. 'Thank you. Now children, watch carefully.'

He held up a small, blue speckled egg between his red-gloved thumb and forefinger, then placed it on his tongue and closed his mouth. There was silence for about ten seconds as his eyes looked furtively from side to side, then he showed them his tongue. A tiny, pink, sugary baby bird sat on the tip. He retracted his tongue like a cuckoo clock to a collective gasp of amazement. 'Now! Who's next?'

'Um. Miss Engel?'

Miss Engel answered without looking around. 'Shouldn't you be out at lunchtime?' When there was no response she turned and automatically looked down to see who was speaking. Her eyes fell on a torso covered with a black waistcoat, and she straightened up hurriedly. 'I'm sorry, Mr Wonka, what was it?'

His curious eyes were concerned. 'Did you think they liked them?'

Miss Engel went back to her tidying, talking over her shoulder. 'I've taught this class for nearly six months now, Mr Wonka, and I can tell you I have never seen them so delighted. It's been such a pleasure to have you this morning.'

'Yeah...' He fidgeted on the spot, staring around at the classroom and the artwork on the display board nearest to him. 'Oh look, look!'

'What is it?' She bundled the last few rag dolls into their drawer and shut it with her hip.

The chocolatier was pointing at a particular painting: a clumsy red house with a large 'WW' on the front door. 'Someone's painted my shop!'

Miss Engel smiled and read the name in childish scrawl on the bottom right. 'By Roberta. Ah yes, she lives in the house opposite. She's always telling her friends when there are new sweets and chocolates in the windows, and after school they all rush down to see.' She removed the corner drawing pin, smoothed the paper down, and replaced it. 'You never see her without her older sister. It's nice to see a family so close.'

'Yeah...' he said again, in the same absent way. He examined the painting for a few minutes, whilst Miss Engel busied herself with the sand playthings.

'Hands up who has a sister? All right, now hands up who has a brother? Good, now hands up who doesn't have any? Oh, just you, Willy?'

'Yes, miss.'

'Then you, Willy, are what is called an Only Child. Aren't you special?'

He didn't feel special; he felt lonely. The friends he told his Papa about were the older bullies who stole his lunch money and teased him about his teeth and his name. He longed for a big brother to take care of them for him, to hold his hand when he was scared and walking home in the dark, to play games with him in the street like the other children's brothers did.

Or if not a big brother, a little brother, someone he could look after and teach about the world, and play games with. Now he thought about it, it would be better to have a little brother, because then Willy would protect him from the bullies and they'd run away from home and go on adventures together and find Mama.

'Mr Wonka? Are you all right?'

He turned a too-bright smile on her. 'Yeah, I'm fine, thanks! Heehee...'

Miss Engel knew how to read body language, and Mr Wonka's was practically screaming "Get me out of here." She put a hand on his forearm. 'I'd like you to know that since Wonka's Candy came out, I have never seen so many happy children.'

The smile gained a little credibility with her praise. 'Thanks,' he said again, softer than before. He licked his lips and said in a rush, 'Hey, is there anything you think could be made better with those eggs, because I'm always open to suggestion!'

Miss Engel thought. 'I think,' she said slowly, 'I think it might go down better with some of the children if it were a chocolate bird. I noticed some of the little girls looking a bit nervous – the tiny pink bird was very cute, but perhaps too realistic.'

He nodded and fished in his pocket. 'Too realistic, chocolate birds...' He produced a notebook and made a scribble of it. 'That's a very good idea. Thank you! And now...' He dived into the pocket of his waistcoat and produced a pocketwatch. The movement, strangely, seemed to start from his feet and work its way up his body in a large swing. 'Oh my goodness, I ran over! Thank you very much for having me, Miss Engel.' He pumped her hand enthusiastically, seized his overcoat and glasses from the coat hooks, and was gone in a flash of scarlet velvet.

Miss Engel was about to make a start on the bricks when his head reappeared at the door. 'I forgot! Miss Angel--Erm! Engel! Here!'

She caught the packet of eggs with a large grin. 'Thank you so much, Mr Wonka!'

He tipped his hat with a silly little grin and was gone.

fin