"You're determined to go to Space today, aren't you?" sighed Terence.
"Nah-uh," replied Willy, pointing to the button Charlie should push. "Go ahead, Charlie. Push it! We won't really go."
Charlie's eyes had rounded like a cat's eyes in full dark, or in full hunt mode, about to pounce.
"Could we go?"
"Natch," smirked Willy, revealing his perfect teeth. "But I have it on good authority we haven't time before dinner. Go ahead, push it! It'll be fun."
Charlie pushed the button labeled 'Final Frontier'. The Elevator leapt forward like a race horse bolting from its starting gate, only to switch course and slow its speed, preparing to leave the Factory. That wouldn't last.
"Hang on," crowed Willy, delighted by what was coming.
They did hang on, but that chore was easy. They were sitting on purpose made jumpseats, and strapped in. Once they were out and shooting upwards, the Earth lay in map-like form below them. Terence felt the wonder of the feat for the second time, and Charlie for the first. Who knew what umpteenth time it was for Willy, but it mattered not: he was as entranced as they were. About the time they were convinced that he never would, Willy reversed the Elevator's course, returning earthward at a stately rate.
"How high were we?" Charlie's eyes were shining.
"93,627 feet," said Willy, pulling a number out of his hat. They'd been at ninety-three thousand something; it wasn't a lie.
Wanting the more pertinent question answered, Terence cocked a brow.
"Stalling, are we?"
"Kinda," sighed Willy. "There's only so much galavanting about town to be done in any given day, and today, I've about reached my limit."
Some of the marvel left Charlie's face. This errand was an imposition.
Some wasn't much, but Willy, as he brought the Elevator to a low hover over the Factory, noticed. "Limits aren't the same as limitations, Charlie. Limits are for expanding. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to. Hey!"
Willy's exclamation saved Charlie from having to think up a reply to a situation he earlier had given no thought to, but which he now felt was pushing. Resigning himself to not understanding the workings of recluses well, Charlie looked in the direction Willy had gravitated to, trying to discover what it was that had so enlivened the chocolatier. Not much, it seemed. Only two Wonka trucks, maneuvering in the courtyard for unloading. The gates were already closed.
Willy's gloved hands were pressing against the side of the Elevator, his forehead as near to the side as the brim of his hat, and the round, dark goggles he had donned would permit. Head atilt, he peered over at Terence.
"Tsk, tsk. Two trucks! And all this time I thought you were shirking."
'Who, me?' mouthed Terence, pointing to himself, an expression of shocked horror covering his face.
"Yes, you," smiled Willy, turning back to the view. "Who then, if not you then, tends to the second truck?"
"Noah."
"Dad!" chimed in Charlie.
"Noahdad? Noooo, Ah don't know-a-dad. Why do you ask?" A flip of Willy's hand cut them off. "Ditched one factory's doings for another's, did he? There's a good idea. I admire his choice. Why?"
"Why do you admire his choice?"
Willy made a face, and Charlie laughed. Willy did, too. There was activity below.
"Oh, look," said Willy. "They're out of their trucks. Wave!"
They waved, and the two on the ground waved back. Nora did a passable job of wiping the worried look off her face, and Noah wondered how Willy got that nifty piece of machinery to do what it did. It wasn't the one he'd seen before in the Factory, or in front of his house. This model was smaller, and quieter — a lot quieter.
"That's one problem solved," continued Willy, still waving. "Your parens now know you're with me, Charlie. That should thrill them. Why does Noah work at that toothpaste factory, anyway? Don't answer that, Charlie, I don't want to know."
Charlie, off the hook again, let loose the breath he had taken in.
"The 'why' I do want to know," said Willy, "is why yer pater decided to spring himself from Smilex. Stop waving, we're off before the parens can call off this mission. That's not waving they're doing down there now, they're making some other something gestures, and I don't want to know what they are, either. Till later, anyway. We concur on that?"
There were nods and murmurs. The waving on their end stopped, and Willy put the Elevator back in motion. That put Noah and Nora into a dizzy, and now it seemed they were asking the Oompa-Loompas unloading the trucks to hurry. The world is becoming an incomprehensible place, thought Willy. Who would want to be in a hurry to leave the Factory? Turning to find Terence pre-occupied with parsing the parens' wavings, Willy gave him a poke with his walking-stick.
"Why?"
"Ow!" Terence took a half-step back. "Watch it with that!"
"Why?"
"Are you kidding? Why watch it with… oh," Terence got it. "I sprang him. I needed someone to watch the trucks, while Nora and I picked up Charlie."
There was a pause while Willy ran that intel through the decoder. It had been a full day. "Ah yes," it dawned, "the Peyton Place opportunity, so lately discussed."
"The Peyton what?"
Dark goggles turned in Charlie's direction. Ah, yes, Charlie is here. I really will have to think before I open my mouth. "Place." That was safe enough. "The opportunity fer yer mater to tell Terence about her morning."
"The Chocolate Room! I almost forgot!"
"Space will do that do you…" muttered Terence.
Charlie brushed him off. This was more important. "Did Mum like it? Was she impressed? Is it okay for us to live there?"
Willy sighed at the question. It was hard reconciling with relegation in your own life's work, at the hand of your would-be heir, no less. In the normal course of events he decided what was done and not done within his Factory's walls, and were housing the Bucket slice of home in the Chocolate Room not 'kay with him, he wouldn't have offered it. But that wasn't the question Charlie was asking. Charlie was asking if the paren approved, and that would take some getting used to. Like a soufflé removed from the warmth that had made it rise, Willy began to deflate. Parried by the preferences of a paren, inside that great black coat of his, his shoulders slumped. The bounce left his voice.
"Ask her. It's fine with me. She expressed concerns the room might be too nice for your house." Both hands having found the top of his walking-stick, Willy tapped it once on the floor of the elevator. "That's poppycock. She should know better. I gave her a sample of what your house will look like when I finish with it. That says it all."
With his jaw set, Willy turned away, not wanting to occupy himself with what was occupying him: others questioning his decisions. Instead he occupied himself with an ordering inventory of what he could see below: buildings, farms, and fields… no, there were none of those last two things, just buildings, streets, and people. And cars. And, hey, looky there, if it wasn't a black limousine, parked outside of Terence's shop! Ha! Eshle hadn't known what had happened to the interloper, other than to confirm Terence's account. Willy stepped from the side of the Elevator, pressing buttons to slow it, the bounce back in his voice.
"Hey, Terence!"
"Hey, Willy!"
Willy laughed. Excited was not the pattern. Using the top of his walking-stick, he pointed.
"Is yonder black vulture, roosting at your own sweet doorstep, your black limousine?"
In an instant, Terence moved to Willy's side. Charlie kept quiet.
"Why, yes, my dear fellow, I believe it is," Terence said smoothly. "Can we get closer?"
"You betcha," beamed Willy. "I think that's where we're supposed to be going." His fingers flew over the buttons. Buildings, people, cars: they passed oblivious beneath the gliding Elevator, only a few of the people looking up. This Elevator, when not using its after-burners, was very quiet.
"Hey, Terence!"
"Willy, I'm right beside you."
Willy laughed again. They were in a hover now.
"Isn't that the Blob?"
"The blob?"
It was Charlie, butting in, afraid that if he didn't get himself back into this conversation soon, he'd be left out for good.
Willy swung his head to study Charlie, his thumb like a heartbeat, closing and re-closing against the side of his walking-stick. Here was that same problem again. What to say, or not say, in front of Charlie. Crossroads time. No way, Terence having done all that talking, on this very topic, I can keep quiet about what I'm seeing. Should I take Charlie over to what's left of his house? Drop him off? Air mail, as it were? He'd be safe there… the bugaboo is here, not there, and there's safety in numbers… not to mention his parens will be back down there themselves, in no time. But no, that didn't feel right. Charlie is one of the players. An important one at that… The most important one, even if he doesn't know it yet. But I do.
His mind made up, Willy shook his head, his hair moving softly. If he planned on taking this plunge, pussyfooting was silly. Charlie could take it or he couldn't. If he couldn't, well… There was a thought to abandon! But given the time, there was no way to get into this ocean slowly. Nope, no way. The only way was to dive right in, splaa-ash! Putting a hand to his mouth, Willy giggled, his imagination living the image: the shining droplets of splashing water spewing sunward in happy commotion. The thing was, they all joined up again in the end. Reshuffled a little maybe, but each with their seperate story to tell. He may as well tell his. Only… If he went down this drain, there'd be no going back.
Well.
Whatever.
With a nod of his head, Willy dismissed the problem. Terence has already helped in the listening. I've been telling him, and in this pinch, the practice will serve me a peach.
"That blob," said Willy, as happy as a lark, "would be Ficklegruber the younger, son of Ficklegruber the elder, the elder Ficklegruber being the Ficklegruber of the feckless spy fame." Frowning, Willy tucked in his chin and glanced over at Terence. "No offense intended, my dear Terence."
"None taken," came Terence's dour reply.
"The Mr. Ficklegruber that sold the ice cream that would never melt?"
Behind his goggles, Willy's eyes were shining. Charlie already knew!
"Yes!"
"Grandpa Joe told me the story. Mr. Ficklegruber was one of the people who made you shut down your Factory."
"He didn't make me, I did it myself, but yeah, that's what I did. And it did, you know. Melt. It just took a long time."
"How come you don't sell it now? I've never seen any. Or heard of any."
"I didn't sell it then. It was experimental. Your Grandpa Joe only knew about it because he worked in the Factory. I discovered what I used to make it not melt could hurt you. Kill you, in fact, but not right away. Slowly. When I discovered they'd stoop to stealing even the things I hadn't perfected, I shut down the Factory. It was the only way I could think of to keep the dangerous things from being made by others."
"But it was too late. Mr. Ficklegruber made it."
"But he stopped."
"Why?"
"Because I wrote him a letter, explaining it to him, and explaining how I would proceed if he didn't stop. The letter was enough. Freddie felt so bad when he found out the ice cream was so bad, he gave up candy-making entirely. He leaves me cold, but I respect the gesture."
Making his hands into a 'T', Terence made an obnoxious buzzing sound.
"Ow," said Willy, making a half-turn to the side, while covering his ear.
"Even-steven then, Mr. Wonka," said Terence, eyeing the walking-stick. "So sorry to cut short the this-is-your-life session, but I'm calling a time-out. He 'leaves you cold'? Talking about ice cream? And you're on a first name basis with Ficklegruber?"
Willy's reply was a sly smile. "So you caught that. I liked it, and no, not really, but I do know it."
"Bully for you. Any chance we can get back to the matter at hand? I don't know which is worse: the limo or the cad. Where do you see him?"
"Coming up the hill. He's watching us like we're a UFO, when we're a KFGGE. Ha, ha! We're a K'figgee! A K'figgeewonk! 'K's at both ends! 'Kay? I wonder if anyone would be interested in a fig flavored candy? I've got the name."
"A what?" Willy was off again, but Terence was wondering.
"A 'Known Flying Great Glass Elevator', silly."
"That was silly of me—"
"You could make them be hard candies," cut in Charlie, "shaped like the Great Glass Elevator."
"Yeah," said Willy, "with a gooey center, like the people inside it."
Charlie wrinkled his nose. "Ew, maybe not that description, but yeah… Maybe with more than one gooey part, like more than one person, with a different flavor for each one—"
"In little compartments, with complimentary flavors!"
"Guys!"
Terence's hands were moving to make the 'T', but Willy, not wanting to subject himself to the noise again, headed him off.
"There, right there. See?" He pointed with his finger. It was rude, but the Blob deserved it. "It looks to me like the Blob is coming from Charlie's house." There was a reason not to drop Charlie off there. Willy's eyes narrowed behind his shades. "What's up with that?"
"Ya got me. He wasn't there when I was there."
"There is where you should be."
Terence took a moment to think. Willy waited. Charlie watched.
"The limo doesn't worry you?"
Willy shook his head. "Nah, it's probably someone from the city council. You told ink-brain down there I was putting in a park I'm not putting in, and those guys, with visions of dollar-signs dancing in their heads, were in a permit-phoning frenzy this morning, finding out if that were true. Fines, fees… whatever they could think of. Doris had her hands full setting them straight. They didn't want to be. They probably sent someone over to see for themselves. You know… talk to the spokesman."
Terence couldn't see the glare he knew was there behind Willy's shades, and that was dandy with him.
"In that case, I owe Doris an apology. So drop me off. I'll follow the Blob. You and Charlie can get George, and then get back to the Factory."
"And run the city-council gauntlet?" Willy sniffed. "No way."
"Park on the roof. You've done it before. Send Charlie downstairs to get George. If you run into any problems, you can take off, and Charlie can walk home with his grandfather."
It still sounded like the lion's den. But Willy didn't have a better plan, so keeping his reservations to himself, he set a course for Charlie's house. As they went, Willy couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else wrong with this plan, but what it was wasn't coming to him.
I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading, and if you've the time and inclination, please let me know what you think.
Squirrela: Thank you for your review. Your thought that Nora run over Wilbur is an interesting one, but doing so might upset her, and that's not even mentioning all the bad karma that would bring her. Dionne Dance: Thank you for your review. Since when, indeed? The pile of rocks at the top of the hill turns into the refuge. I'm glad you're enjoying the story and the changing perceptions of the various characters. Linkwonka88: Thank you for your interest. Stay tuned for further developments.
