A/N: Agh! I'm so silly. There was a good reason for the sheep joke but I only just realised that its origins have not yet been posted in my OneDeppTooFar fic, which is where I started it. Anyone who wants to hear the expanded explanation of what Mr Wonka feeds his sheep will have to wait for one of the later chapters in One Depp Too Far For Mr Wonka. Thank you again for your feedback though :)

It was a few days later before any more was heard from Miss Vane's Caterer's' distinguished visitor. Isabelle was sweeping the shop floor after a hectic day of creating wedding baskets whilst a well-rested Mrs Soden wiped up the tabletops.

"Honestly, dear, what were you thinking shouting at the poor man like that?" Annie sighed. "It's not as though he was doing you any harm."

"I don't know, Annie," Isabelle replied wearily. You told me he kept turning up all those times I didn't know about, he acts strangely like some creepy stalker and then I find him hiding under the counter. What am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe you shouldn't think so much in the first place," said Mrs Soden.

Isabelle stopped sweeping to look at her.

"How do you mean?"

Annie flung an icing-sugar-covered cloth over her shoulder and straightened.

"You're a nice girl, Izzy, but you've got too many barriers around that heart of yours. Even men who only want to start as friends with you get pushed back because you misjudge their intentions. You don't trust anyone."

"I trust you, Annie," Isabelle said, hurt.

"I mean men. They're not all bad. Take your father for example."

The young girl moved to lift the doormat and dusted beneath.

"My father wasn't an American," she muttered.

"Neither was Luke…"

Isabelle kept her eyes to the floor as she scraped the last of the rubbish into a bag.

"Luke wasn't even a person as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh Izzy," Mrs Soden soothed. "You can't let that one man ruin your whole life. You're older now and wiser for it too. Forget about him, maybe go out tonight with Jemima and meet some new people?"

"Jez is busy tonight, she's got family coming round."

"You know what I mean, get out some time and have some fun. I promise it'll all work out for the best."

The shop letterbox squeaked and something slapped onto the floor. Isabelle moved to pick it up.

"What is it, dear?" Annie asked.

The young florist showed the item, its wrapper glistening in the light.

"It's a bar of chocolate," she said.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" the cake-maker suggested as though it were a birthday present.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's just a normal bar of chocolate. If I wanted one I could just go down the street and buy one. And if this is from who I think it is, he didn't spare much thought as to which one I'd want," she snapped, tapping her finger on the 'Wonka' logo. She bit her lip as soon as she realised how picky she sounded. "Sorry. Here, you can have it." She passed it to Mrs Soden.

Isabelle wandered behind the counter to empty the till for the day as Annie unwrapped the bar. She glanced up, almost dropping a handful of change as the old woman cried out in surprise.

"There's a Golden Ticket inside!"

Izzy frowned.

"Annie, that competition ended a year ago. It's impossible to find another."

"Oh I know that, silly," said Mrs Soden, waving the slip of gold in her face. "But this one is addressed to you."

Isabelle took it reluctantly and turned her back to read it.

Ms Vane,

Please accept my warmest apologies for my behaviour last time we met. It would be an honour to invite you to dinner at my place as a token of friendship. Straight after work, come to the factory. Looking forward to the occasion.

Sincerely,

W.W

"Well, what does it say?" Annie wondered, eagerly.

"You know what it says, it only takes a minute to read," Isabelle smirked. "I don't know if I should go. It's a little bit…odd."

Mrs Soden shooed away her comment with a hand.

"What did I tell you about going out and enjoying yourself? Finish up what you're doing and get gone, young lady. You'll be fine. If you don't turn up tomorrow morning for work, I'll know where to send the police." She chuckled.

"Fine, if it'll make you happy," Isabelle groaned. "But I'm still not sure about this. The handwriting's all funny and I'm pretty sure he'd be a bit more, I don't know, relaxed in his content."

"He's probably trying to give you the standard you seem to expect from men. Now hurry up and don't keep the lad waiting."

Soon Isabelle found herself clutching her handbag to her as she stood outside the great iron gates of the Wonka factory. They were closed but as soon as she moved her finger to press the intercom button, the motorised hinges hummed and swung the gates inwards.

She stepped cautiously into the vast courtyard in front of the building, the gates buzzing closed at her back. There was no one to be seen.

"Hello?" she called.

A face peeked around the side of the immense factory wall. As soon as Isabelle noticed it, an arm poked out and waved at her. Then the figure vanished.

"Hello?" she repeated.

Confused, she hurried towards where she had seen the person. It had looked like a small child wearing something with black and white striped sleeves.

Isabelle turned the corner and shrieked as a huge sack was pulled over her head. Hands grabbed her legs and bundled her inside until everything went completely dark.