Disclaimer: Once again I don't own anything that Roald Dahl has created. I'm merely borrowing it for the amusement of others and myself.
Chapter Three
"Charlie?"
Mrs. Bucket's mother looked at her son with concern. He hadn't seemed to be himself lately and she was worried as any good mother should be. She hoped that it wasn't anything that Mr. Wonka had said to her son, or she would have to speak to him in private.
Mrs. Bucket almost thought that her son didn't hear her and was about to say something again when he finally turned around to look at her. His face still showed his deep thought that he had been in the past hour or so.
Charlie gave a small smile. "What is it mother? Is there anything wrong?"
Mrs. Bucket shook her head. "No, I was just wondering if there was anything wrong with you, my dear. You haven't been yourself the past day or so. I hope Mr. Wonka hasn't overworked you already, at your young age."
Charlie smiled and shook his head. "No, nothing of the sort. I was just thinking, mother, if I should get married."
Mrs. Bucket stared at her son in surprise. Get married? Where did such a notion get into that brain of his? She had always taught him to wait with girls until he found the absolute right one for him that made him happy, but if he found a girl already, then she would support him through and through.
"Get married? But why, son? Is there a particular girl that you're thinking about marrying?" Mrs. Bucket asked.
Charlie shook his head. "No, mother. It's just something that Mr. Wonka had said to me the other day. He said that maybe I should get married and have kids then I would have an heir for the chocolate factory instead of going out and looking for another child like he had to do."
"Oh, that is utterly ridiculous. Why should he care when you get married?" Mrs. Bucket huffed.
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know, I have no idea; Willy Wonka has his own agenda and ideas."
"Surely you didn't say yes." Mrs. Bucket looked worried.
Charlie laughed and shook his head. "No, not at the moment. I said I would think about it and let him know when I made a decision."
"Do you really think that marrying is the best plan, Charlie?" Mrs. Bucket pleaded, "Maybe there can be another way—"
"I told him I would think about it and let him know, mother," Charlie interrupted firmly. "I haven't made the final decision yet. Just relax until then."
Mrs. Bucket sighed. She didn't like the idea of this, but if her son knew what he was doing knew what was best, then by all means, let him decide. It was his life, not hers.
Charlie must have sensed Mrs. Bucket's wariness because he went over and gave her a hug. Pulling away, Charlie looked down at her and gave a kind smile, the one that Mrs. Bucket always loved looking at on her son.
"I'll try and make the best decision, mother," Charlie said softly. "For all of us."
Mrs. Bucket smiled. "I know you will. Just do what you can."
Charlie said nothing, just turned around and headed out of the room. Mrs. Bucket watched him leave and then shook her head. As long as whichever decision gave him the most happiness, Mrs. Bucket was satisfied. Going back to her sewing, Mrs. Bucket's thoughts drifted away unworried. Little did she know that her life would one day soon change again.