Around two-ish, a Wonka truck trundled down the hill. Nora hopped out, dark curls bouncing as she landed, cheeks ruddy with the cold.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, a reassured Terence strode over to greet her. Seeing Nora this chipper meant all was well in Wonka-world, even if it were three or four hours later than it should have been. Nora looked bright, and cheery, if a little shell-shocked, and Terence waited for her to speak. If she'd been to the Chocolate Room, it would take her a few minutes to re-align her senses to what passed for the normal world, and in any case, the normal world wasn't the way it normally was. Her house was shrinking every minute, turning itself into so many crates; what was left of her garden swarmed with students she'd never laid eyes on before yesterday.
The teeming scene made Nora feel small, as if she might be trampled, and she jumped back up to the runner of the truck, using it as a perch, the half-open door steadying her. Seeing how quickly her house was coming down was downright disconcerting.
"It's almost gone!"
"I'd hardly say that," said Terence, "but it's coming along."
"They're staring."
"It's a Wonka truck. It might hold a Wonka."
Nora gave a little start.
"That poor man! I'm going to pick up Charlie."
Terence cocked a brow.
"Shouldn't you wait till school lets out?"
Nora took her head off the swivel it'd been on since she'd gotten out of the truck and looked down at Terence. She laughed then, and sat back down in the driver's seat, kicking the door open the rest of the way, so Terence could stand beside her.
"You look very dashing in that color, Terence, dear— shades of that color, I should say. One of them is a perfect match for your eyes."
"So I've been told," Terence answered, wondering when he'd graduated to 'dear' status. "More than once, thank you— today."
Nora laughed again. It sounded like glitter, caught by full sunlight, skittering over ice. "Don't look so sour. You look like a million bucks."
"Green and dirty?"
"Go on with you." She pooh-poohed him with her hand. "You know what I mean."
"I do. And I've been advised of that more than once today, too."
Grinning, Nora lapsed into silence, wonder filled eyes simply staring at him.
"You okay?"
"Swudge," Nora giggled.
"Swudge," Terence agreed.
"Swudge?" echoed a deep voice.
Nora and Terence, one surprised, the other impassive, turned as a team.
The speaker, feeling like an intruder, shifted where he stood. The way these two were giving him the once-over, you'd think he'd blundered into a secret meeting: right after the secret code word was exchanged, but before the secret handshake. He waited for more, but with no explanation forthcoming, he met their stares with a frown, lifting an indifferent shoulder toward the truck.
"It okay with you if we start loading this?"
Nora's surprise evaporated at the normalcy of the mundane question, her face slipping into a smile as she nodded her head at the student who'd come up to stand behind Terence.
With a motion, Terence concurred, his face relaxing. For a minute, he'd thought it was Felix.
The student moved off, signaling the others to start on the crates. A truck finally shows up, and that guy, after telling them only this morning he wants the operation sped up, stands around yakking like he's got all day. As weird as it was, the student was glad he'd interrupted them, but he let his new opinion of the operation cross his face as he turned away.
"There goes my efficient project manager status," Terence allowed, catching the disgruntled look. "And he's right. I'm remiss in my duties. He shouldn't have had to ask."
Watching the student's retreating back, Nora took scant notice.
"I've seen the Chocolate Room, Terence. If these folks knew what Willy's hiding up there in that Factory of his, they'd be storming the gates."
Terence kept his voice even.
"They do know. Swudge and all. It was in the newspapers."
"No one believes those," Nora scoffed. "I didn't. Look what he's doing to our house, and I'm not talking about taking it apart." Reaching over to the passenger seat, Nora picked up an oblong piece of wood, giving it to Terence.
Taking it, Terence turned it over in his hands. The wood was darkly rich; smooth, and lustrous, with a satin finish that made it look burnished. Terence recognized it as the shape and grain of the shingles on the Bucket house roof, but it was transformed. His considered response was a low whistle.
Nora only smiled.
"Wow, huh? Our house! Eshle gave it to me. I have to bring it back. Eshle says they're using a stabilizing resin that will preserve the wood, and also keep it from shedding particles into the room."
Terence handed back the end result of Willy's version of steam cleaning.
"It looks great."
The words were cheerful, but preoccupation made the delivery flat. She'd mentioned Eshle, so she'd met him, but as dearly as Terence would like to know the details, he wouldn't ask. This wasn't the time, or the place, or even, any of his business. His business was moving this house, and he'd already let himself be distracted from that.
Nodding, Nora took the piece, her fingers curling around its edge, lowering her head as she ran her hand along its satiny finish. She'd heard the reserve in Terence's voice; it struck a chord. For all her cheer, Nora had her own reservations. She wasn't sure things had ended well this morning, or not. Terence might help her know.
Her fingertips felt the grain of the wood, revealing its pattern; they'd failed to tell her anything about Willy. He'd dropped his arm the moment they'd entered the eleva… lift.
The truck rocked a little as the crates were loaded, the sounds becoming muffled as the space filled, her conversation with Terence lapsing into silence. Nora should ask how her father liked Terence's shop, but couldn't bring herself to do it. It didn't worry her like the rest of it did, and she'd hear about it firsthand, tonight. Her fingers flowed up and over the ridges and crevices of the grain. Her father was out of bed, working in a shop. Like the wood under her hand, the familiar pattern she knew was becoming something else, in ways she hadn't imagined possible.
"How does he do these things, Terence?" she murmured.
"We're done."
Terence and Nora turned again to face the returning student, their faces blank with thoughts they'd rather keep to themselves. Nora found her smile.
"Already?" She smoothly shifted the shingle out of her hand and on to the passenger seat.
The student grinned into the somber atmosphere. "There's a lot of us. And a lot more crates." Polite, his point made, he moved off.
Terence stepped away, and Nora made to close the door.
"Come up with me."
Terence stepped back to the truck, closing the door the rest of the way. Nora rolled down the window.
"Come up."
"Why?"
"You're supposed to pick up Charlie, and it's almost time."
"Not in a Wonka truck, I'm not. I like your son."
Nora bit her lip, thinking. "If we have two trucks working, this will get done faster. You can drive can't you?"
Terence almost laughed. "Like Jackie Stewart."
"Then get in. I'm sure Willy won't mind if you drive a truck." Nora crossed her arms.
Something niggled about the phrasing, emphasized by the defiant stance of her arms. She was sure? But for the tension around his eyes, Terence's face was unreadable.
"We can ask him."
Nora slumped against the seat-back, her head lowered, a hand across her forehead. "We can't." She looked up. "Willy went as far as the middle of that tall bridge in the Chocolate Room. He sat down, told me a few things about the room, introduced me to Eshle—who joined us—made some strange hand motions that Eshle understood perfectly—he made some back—and then Willy got up and left. Eshle was my guide after that—nice man—but when I asked where Willy went, he wouldn't say. But he did say after I'd had my fill of the Chocolate Room…"
Terence cracked a smile at 'fill of' that Nora pretended not to see. This wasn't a joke—even if that was—and she hurried on.
"…Willy said I should drive the truck for the rest of the day, and here I am. But I'm worried, because I have my doubts this arrangement will work out— in the long run, I mean, and you're the only one I can think of to talk to about it." Furtive eyes scanned the area. "We won't be overheard if we're driving."
Terence wasn't so sure about that, it was a Wonka truck, but by now Nora was staring straight ahead, both hands choking the steering wheel, concern pinching her knuckles white. Terence kept his voice light. His earlier Wonka-world assessment may have been hasty.
"Then I'll get in, and you can drive, and we'll find some pleasant static on the radio, and turn it up, and pretend to listen to it while we talk."
As he'd expected, once they were in the truck, heading up the hill, with the Chocolate Factory filling every inch of the windscreen, Nora had nothing to say. Terence turned off the radio, and hefted the piece of Bucket house he held in his lap.
"As good as this looks, I'm surprised Willy is really going to allow something inedible in the Chocolate Room. I thought he'd turn your place into chocolate, or some kind of candy— a gingerbread house, perhaps."
Nora shuddered at the image. "Ugh. I'd feel like a captive in a Grimm's story, being fattened for slaughter." She paused long enough for a weak smile to find its way to her lips. "I'm sorry. I'm wasting your time."
Terence settled the treated wood back in his lap. "You're not. Using two trucks is a good idea, and so are klieg lights, or something like them. If Willy has something like that, we could bring them down, set them up, and work all night. If we throw in three trucks, with Noah driving, we'd be finished by early tomorrow afternoon." Glancing sideways, he paused a beat. "Noah can drive can't he?"
Nora ducked her head and grimaced with her teeth. So casually lobbed back at her, the question sounded like an insult. She hadn't meant it that way, or asked it to disparage Terence's accomplishments; she just didn't know what they were. Chagrined, Nora tossed her head and made light of it. "Like Mario Andretti."
Terence chuckled at her bravado, and Nora relaxed. He'd been pulling her leg. She'd forgotten he'd seen Noah drive yesterday. By now they were at the top of the hill.
The Factory's grand gates swung open for them like molten bronze melting wax, and Nora felt the warmth of returning home send a tingle down her spine. Home. Her home. Her face was flushed with the feeling, but she felt like a cat's toy, too, batted about by her own emotions. First up, then down, now up again. She had to take charge of herself. This was all so wonderful. It had to work. She'd make it work. She had to talk to Terence.
With as many urgent unknowns as Nora implied were jostling for attention, it was the banal that triumphed. Having reached the courtyard, the first order of business was maneuvering the truck for unloading.
Terence hopped out before Nora got started with that, and gazed toward the Factory's façade. The gates had opened, so things couldn't be that bad. He'd know more when they got inside. If they got inside would be a good sign, too. Hands buried in his pockets, Terence could guess the problem. Hell, he had it, and his childhood was a cakewalk compared to Willy's. The Bucket family was a hard act to follow. Terence made a point of not comparing, but even as well versed with human nature as he was, it wasn't easy. Seeing Charlie with Noah was like a twist of the knife, as Terence imagined how things might have been if he'd had time with his father. It'd be that much harder for Willy— he'd spent years burying his past, his family's past, burying himself; and here was the picture-book opposite, pitching camp, right under his nose. Terence wondered which made it harder for his friend— the years spent avoiding his past, or the self-indulgence having everything his own way for all these years encouraged.
Finished with her chore, Nora walked over to join him. As she did, a ray of sunlight peeked through the lingering overcast, the clouds beginning to break up. Remembering her morning's lesson, Nora tilted her head.
"You know, Terence— there is a place where those colors would be camouflage. Under the right conditions."
Terence tilted his head back at her, not getting it, but then he felt the sun, and did, tension filling him. "You're right— I should've seen that. Let's go in."
The door opened easily, but it was Eshle who greeted them, standing formally in their path, silent and unsmiling.
An unsmiling Oompa-Loompa is all wrong, and this had the feel of an impasse. Terence considered letting it play out, but everyone's discomfort was only rising.
"Eshle, my man. Good ta see ya. How's it hangin' and all that?" Terence slid a foot forward, bending into a crouch, and held out his hand. "Gimme five down low, don't be slow!"
Nora looked askance, Eshle cracked a smile, and the tension was gone.
"That's so not you," Eshle said.
"I'll hazard this is so not any of us. Where's Willy?"
"We want to ask if we can use more trucks," added Nora, when Eshle fell silent again.
"That's fine," Eshle waved. "Use all the trucks you want. Willy is unavailable. He'd like you to continue as directed."
Terence thought about the camouflage. "Is he here?"
Eyes on his feet, Eshle nodded, and the hall descended again into uncomfortable silence.
"Hm." Terence considered. Time to give himself a chance to find out about the morning. That'd be easy enough. Nora already wanted to fill him in. "Forget Willy."
Eshle looked up, aghast.
"Let's switch to something easier. Do you have bright, portable lights we can use to light the Bucket house so we can work through the night?"
"Yes," said Eshle, happy with this idea. "We do. He'd like that."
"Then here's the new plan. Nora and I will take two trucks down now so they can be loaded. While that's happening, we'll walk over and pick up Charlie from school— it'll be time by then. We'll go back to the site and get the trucks. You have the lights ready to go when we get back. Sound good?"
The walk to the school would be a perfect opportunity to talk to Nora.
"Sounds good," Eshle agreed.
"Okay. Willy should be out of his funk by then, but if he's not, I'll deal with it."
Eshle and Nora nodded, but neither one believed it for a minute.
Happy New Year, all! I'm starting mine off with an update, and hoping for the best. Thanks for reading, enjoy your day, and if you'd care to, please review. I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended.
dionne dance: You make an excellent point. Perhaps the difference lies in the scope of their responsibilities. Thanks for taking the time to review. Likewise my thanks to you, Ifwecansparkle. I am happy to write FanFiction has added Mrs. Bucket to the list of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory characters authors can select to highlight.
