The world turns, and sometimes it changes. Sometimes it changes in less time than it takes for one of those earthly revolutions to complete itself. Sometimes, it changes overnight. That's the way Nora felt about that night. The night their house came down; the night Terence left; the night whose morning-after felt like the previous six days hadn't counted. The night whose morning-after felt like the family was under house arrest.

Willy Wonka all but disappeared.

"Does he still live here?" On the morning of day-three-after, such was Nora's question to Ahlia. Ahlia, who not only hadn't disappeared, but who now hovered over them like a moth looking for a flame.

"Of course he still lives here," she'd tittered back, but her eyes had slid away from Nora's, and she'd busied her hands with straightening an imaginary something on the table. "Can I get you anything?" she finished brightly. "Can I do something for you?"

"No, Ahlia," said Nora, with a hint of a sigh. She draped the towel she'd been drying the breakfast dishes with over the edge of the sink. "Thank you for asking, but you do too much as it is. I'm used to doing everything for myself, and with as little to do as I have now, I can see the day stretching before me."

It was true. The days were getting longer and longer, and not just because they really were. That first-day-after, Noah had slept in, courtesy of his all-nighter, but waking before lunchtime, he'd left for the toothpaste factory in the afternoon. Nora's father hadn't waited that long. Whatever Willy had given him in that candy hadn't worn off, and up at the crack of dawn, George was up and out of the Factory before you could say, "Someone needs to look after Terence's shop for him, while he's gone."

"Scared you're in trouble are you, George?" offered up Joe. No one had given George any peace until everyone had heard the story of Terence's taking numerous times. "If you'd come back by Elevator, the way Willy wanted, Terence would be here now."

"You don't know that," George had sniffed, ready to leave. "I protected all of us by walking. If we hadn't, they'd have come after Terence here. You should be thanking me." George scowled, his hand on the door knob. "You know good and well I tried to get that dead-beat limo driver to take us, when his guilty conscience brought him back to the scene he deserted."

There was that, they did know, and the group went quiet, wondering what had become of the poor soul who had taken ill in Terence's shop. But they had no way of knowing, and shaking off their silent speculation, George didn't wait any longer for the thank you he knew wasn't coming. With a slam, he was gone.

"You won't convince me," said Joe, shaking his finger when the bed had stopped shaking, "that George isn't skedaddling because he doesn't want to run into Willy just now. And, of course that limo driver didn't believe him, and drove off, when George told him he wanted to be taken to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory."

"I believe you, dear," said his wife, taking a break from her crocheting to pat his hand on the blanket. "George should have told that driver the Greystone Cafe. Or the bicycle shop. Those are believable. But if you ask me, George is being very sensible now. Were I him, I wouldn't want to run into Mr. Wonka, either."

"I love shops," threw in Georgina, with a lop-sided grin, her eyes half-closed, her head bobbing gently, as if it were too heavy for her to hold steady.

Resuming her crocheting, Josephine nodded back, taking the comment as agreement.


George had nothing to worry about. Willy was a no-show for breakfast, or for any other part of that day. After breakfast, Nora picked up the place she had laid for him, and wondered if Charlie still needed an escort to school. It had been all the rage yesterday, but today… not much interest. Nora decided to err on the side of caution.

"Come on, Charlie, let's get you to school."

"I can go myself, mum," said Charlie, finishing his milk. With few exceptions, he'd walked to school on his own for all his life. He liked it. It made him feel older. "Willy would tell us if it were still dangerous."

"I'm sure he would if he were here, but he's not here, and until I hear it from him, someone's taking you."

"Aww, mum…"

"Objection noted," Nora smiled. "Get your things. I need some fresh air."


She got some. The walk to school was pleasant enough: the sun warming the March air; Charlie skipping ahead and slowing down, letting her catch up; taking her hand at the busy street crossings. Nora smiled to herself, convinced it was out of concern for her safety, and not his, that Charlie was doing so. Reaching the school's property line, Nora let Charlie make his own way. There was no need for his complete embarrassment. She could see his successful entry from there. Making her day, Charlie turned and waved from the top of the steps.

Nora's solo return found her indulging in a detour that took her to the base of the hill. There was little left. A shallow hole that had been the foundation. Trampled bits of former cabbages. They'd brought tears to her eyes when she'd seen them last. They brought tears to her eyes now. Angry, Nora blinked the salty moisture away. Litter was strewn everywhere: cast-offs from the work. Nails and pieces of crates; cups; wrappings from snacks. Nora bent, reaching for a forlorn, dirt-stained container. They could have—should have—eaten the cabbages. This relic looked like it had held ice cream. She brought it to her nose. It smelled like ice cream… blueberry. Blueberry? Ice Cream? Were they daft? She thought of tasting the smidgens left in the cup, but it had lain on the ground.

She found a tattered box, and started to pick up the mess. It was atrocious the way they had left their home, atrocious! What was Noah thinking? Couldn't he make those people pick up after themselves? Why, the way they'd left it made it look like a dump! Like an abandoned dump! And then Nora raised her eyes, and lowered the box. Her glance swept the vista before her from edge to edge, and from her feet to the horizon. It was a dump. An abandoned dump. It always had been. They'd been dumped. And abandoned. Nora's fingers dug into the cardboard. But they hadn't abandoned each other! No, by God, they hadn't! And in all the time they'd lived here, they'd made their forgotten corner of dump as appealing as they could make it. By God, they had! Her eyes burned along with her heart.

The moment passed. The flint in Nora's eyes crumbled. Her jaw unclenched. She dropped the half-torn box she held to the ground. What did it matter? This was a dump. It was where you dumped things. It was no place for her any more; or for her family. It wasn't even a place for cabbages. With a weariness she couldn't fathom, Nora turned away.

The walk to the top of the hill was pleasant enough.


It was when she reached the entrance hall that Nora discovered that overnight, the Factory had shrunk to its former proportions; as far as the Bucket family was concerned, at any rate. Her plan vis à vis the Chocolate Room tipped her off. When they'd moved in, Charlie had told her the door to the Chocolate Room was at the end of that corridor. Off-limits the day they had moved in, she'd seen it in its entirety yesterday. Why not go and see it now? Visit the place her house would stand next. Make sure she hadn't changed her mind about the site.

Halfway down the hall, Ahlia popped up out of no where, skipping beside her.

"Can I help you find something?"

A line of older Oompa-Loompas was forming in the middle distance.

"The Chocolate Room, if you please," Nora smiled. "Charlie tells me it's down this way."

"It is, but now is not a good time. Let's go back to the suite. I think the grandparents need you."

"Joe can manage." But Nora could see Ahlia's agitation. The corridor was filling, and it didn't seem polite, or politic, to persist. Nora made an about-face. "I know, why don't you take me to Reception? Is that where Willy is? I have some questions for him. Take me to Willy."

"Willy is very busy," came the apologetic reply. "I know! Let's go back to the suite."

In the shadows, Oompa-Loompas were everywhere. Everywhere, excepting the route to the suite. Nora bit her tongue. She felt like saying to all of them: 'Take me to your leader.' But the deadpan robot voice she planned to use was probably funnier to her than it would be to them, and Nora felt Ahlia tugging on the hem of her dress.

"Here's an idea for you, Ahlia… Why don't you take me back to the suite?"


That's how it started. When she'd asked, Noah had explained to her about the ice cream. She wished she'd tried it. She couldn't ask Willy for some. There was no sign of Willy. Had it been only three days? Nora was going stir-crazy. Noah had laughed on day-two-after, when she'd called it house arrest.

"House arrest means you can't leave. We can leave whenever we want."

And they did leave. Charlie, with his mum, went to school. Noah went to the toothpaste factory. George went to Terence's shop. Nora, after dropping Charlie, went for walks down the hill. And they all came back; Charlie with a Nora or Noah escort. And they could go to the suite. And that was it. Georgina never noticed. Josephine didn't care. Joe contented himself with constitutionals up and down the hallway. If the rest of the Factory was off limits, Willy Wonka had his reasons. They'd find out in good time. Willy's time. Charlie agreed.

"Don't worry, mum. Willy's spent forever without you worrying about what he's doing. He doesn't need you to worry now."

"Forever, Charlie?"

Charlie grinned. "A very long time."

"Go back to your homework, smarty," she'd laughed. And grabbed her lower lip with her teeth. Because the only thing weirder than being in Willy Wonka's Factory with Willy Wonka, was being in his Factory without him. The place didn't even sound the same.


Thank you readers, reviewers, and those of you who fav and/or follow. I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended.

My thanks to my reviewers. It makes my day to think you are enjoying this story. Squirrela, hmm, I hope it wasn't too filling; and it is true, lack of sleep does nothing good for anyone. dionne dance, I like a mushy, warm chapter, too, and as creepy as this is going to get—but not yet—we need to stock up. Linkwonka88, sorry to startle you; I added a warning. FeralsRock, thank you for adding your voice, and also for your review to 'The Interview'. The best kind of prize is a surprise, and as long completed as that story is, your new review was indeed a surprise.