The suspense broke after dinner, that third evening. A sharp rap; the double doors thrown open; a whirlwind of color... and before anyone could say, 'Who goes there?', Mr. Wonka had arrived. Like the cardinal points of the compass, four Oompa-Loompas encircled him, each in a different colored uniform, and each bearing a matching bundle of folded fabric. Willy surveyed the crowd as he descended upon them, taking in what he saw. Miss me, fretting familia? he thought, eyes agleam.
"Good evening, Buckets! The Earth says, hello!"
Willy's buffers held their formation. Stupefied stares met his onslaught. But that didn't apply to Charlie. Charlie was beaming, and why not? Charlie was in on all of this. At Willy's behest, Charlie had been sneaking back to the Factory at lunch hour every day, and Willy had been telling and showing him all, er, almost all, of his plans for Charlie's house.
'We've gotta get this done before Terence gets back, Charlie,' Willy had told him, and Charlie had nodded.
'We've gotta get this done before I can't keep this secret from my family.'
'That, too,' said Willy, wondering how on Earth that could be a problem, but smiling all the same, and he'd cut the Factory's production back to a skeleton crew, putting every able-bodied Oompa-Loompa on the house project.
Here and now, Georgina had that irresistible, vacant look of rapture on her face that Willy, well, couldn't resist. He crossed the room in record time, and sitting himself down on the edge of the mattress, he took her hands in his. Like footmen, the bundle toting Oompa-Loompas took up positions at the four corners of the bed.
"Would you like a bon-bon, Georgina? I have truffles, just for you." Willy gazed into her eyes for a moment, and then turned to Joe. "And for you," Josephine was next, "and you." Still holding Georgina's hands he looked at George. "You don't get one, and neither do you, or you, or you." He'd freed a hand, playing a loose duck, duck, goose with it to indicate Charlie, Noah, and Nora.
"Unhand my wife, you cad," cackled George.
Willy cackled back, but let Georgina's hands drop. He needed his to take the bon-bon from his pocket. It was wrapped in purple and silver swirled foil, and undoing the wrapping, being careful not to touch the sweet, he offered it to Georgina. An exchange of thoughts, and she gave the idea the okay, eating the sweet with that same look of vacant rapture, the look turning less vacant after the eating. That satisfied Willy. Digging out another, he turned to Joe and tossed him his.
"Your turn."
Joe ate. "Mmmm…"
"Now you."
Josephine made to balk, but before she could, Willy spoke with utmost softness. "You'll enjoy the evening so much more if you do. Whether you do, is up to you."
Josephine ate. It was good. It took all she had not to make a sound that would give her enjoyment away, but she managed it. Not fooled, Willy studied her a minute longer. Her motivation to appear unhappy escaped him. Deciding for the millionth time when meeting people like this, that he didn't want to understand their motivation, he let go the line of thinking. And stood up.
"It's short notice, Buckets, rude, I know, but I'm hoping you have nothing inked in on your dance cards for this evening. Have you? Any of you? All of you? None of you?" Willy was as calm now as he'd earlier been intense.
"Have we, dear?" Nora clung to Noah's arm. She'd wanted something to happen, but now that it had, it seemed as if it were happening too fast.
Willy didn't wait. Putting a cupped hand to the corner of his mouth, he called, "Bring in the chairs!"
"If we did, we don't now," whispered Noah, covering his wife's hand and wrist with his own.
Two sedan chairs were brought in, each one carried by twelve Oompa-Loompas.
"Up, Elders, if you please," motioned Willy. "We're up to the part where I need the bed. The chairs are for you for later, or now, if you want them. Joe and George, you don't get chairs. I've seen you walk. The chairs are just for the ladies. Robes?"
With ceremonious bows, the four Oompa-Loompas presented the folded brocaded robes, in jeweled hues, to the grandparent by whom they were stationed.
"I'm not wearing that!" grunted George, crossing his arms. Where he sat, aquamarine was on offer.
"Don't see why not," lobbed back Willy. "It matches your complexion."
Joe took his ruby robe and flung it around his shoulders. "I feel like a prince!"
Josephine's eye were alight, her fingers running over the fabric. "Rose-quartz! It's perfect!"
Georgina's was a deep, emerald-green. With dancing eyes she reached for it, the folds confounding her. Nora hastened to her side, and helped her put it on. It was lovely.
Feeling mysteriously renewed, younger almost, Georgina flung back the bedclothes, and with a steading hand on the mattress, got to her feet. "Which chair is my chair?"
"The chair you choose is your chair, my dear lady, and when you have, it will be the chair you chose. The rest of you, desist with this dilly and dally. Get out of bed. Time's a-wasting."
Time a-wasting as it may be, it appeared there was time a-plenty to waste, because an Oompa-Loompa bearing a piece of rolled up felt and a game box, took that moment to appear at Willy Wonka's side.
"Why, thank you," said Willy, taking the items.
The Oompa-Loompa returned Willy's bow and joined the four at the bed, passing out tools. Willy shook out the roll of felt and laid it on the dining table.
"I'm not hearing any plans. Dance card clean then? Marvy! I thought this evening we'd get in a game of tiddlywinks. Who's against me?"
"And just what happens if we don't get out of this bed?" groused George.
"Well," said Willy, in his best I'm-explaining-this-to-a-two-year-old voice, "I meant who wants to be my opponent in the game, but if we're going to play this game…" Willy set up the pot in the center of the felt, "You can stay in the bed, and be blindfolded. Or be rolled up in the mattress, like a bug-in-a-rug. Or—"
Nora had heard enough, but as she wasn't willing to take on the babysitting duties for two adult children, she refused to speak and thereby make herself the referee. Sensitive to his wife's cross face and crossed arms, Noah jumped in before her resolve to stay quiet flowed into an eruption. Her foot was already tapping.
"Pops!"
Willy giggled as he set out the winks. "Pops!" he echoed, to himself.
As far as Charlie could see, there were only four colors, and eight people.
"Can we play as teams? If we can, I want to be on your team!"
The corner of his mouth turning up, Willy cast Charlie a sidelong glance.
"That's the idea, pip-squeak, that's the idea. And of course we can, and that means you can. We're red. I like red. Any takers for yellow?"
Yellow was upstream from red. Nora could study Willy from that vantage point without seeming to. Her hand was up.
"Dibs on yellow for me and Noah!"
"Done! You people?"
With Josephine on his arm, Joe was up and standing by green. Green was abeam red, the dining table separating him from Willy and Charlie, and that left blue for George and Georgina. On the opposite side of the table from Willy and Charlie, it also put George furtherest away, as the felt cloth that was the playing area measured six feet by three feet. Six feet and opposite sides oughta give those two enough room.
"You play for me, dear," said Josephine, sinking into a dining chair next to Joe.
"I'm not playing," said George.
"I'll play," chimed in Georgina. "I love 'winks! Where are they?"
Willy sent her a sidelong glance that included a wink, and with a tiny smile, moved to assist her to the blue. With sudden alacrity George found his legs, and assisted her himself. Willy took the opportunity to distribute the squidgers to the players around the table. The Oompa-Loompas took the opportunity to begin dismantling the bed.
"I've got a million of these," said Willy, putting a pile of extras on the table, but off the playing area. "You can use any one you want, they're all legal, but you can only use one at a time. And now, we squidge-off."
"We what?" asked Charlie.
"In mixed company?" muttered Josephine.
"We squidge-off. It's how we decide who goes first. Each team flips a wink with the squidger, and whoever comes closet to the pot, starts!"
"You're making that word up," said George.
"Cross my heart and hope to die, I'm not," vowed Willy, crossing his heart, but not hoping to die. "That's the gosh darn name. Though I must admit, I've often thought it was me, in a previous life, who invented this game."
Willy led off, and watching his technique, Nora followed. Angles and the felt cushion they were playing on were the secrets. Joe was next, and that left Georgina. Taking aim and squeezing her eyes tight-shut, Georgina mashed a wink with her squidge. In a high arc, her wink flipped through the air, catching the light as it tumbled, propelled so far, it hit the rim of the pot and landed leaning against it.
"Ooh, that's a winner!" Willy's eyes were shining. "You start. Then we go clockwise."
The players retrieved their winks. Willy set his pocket watch on the table and noted the time. The Oompa-Loompas carried the pieces of the bed out of the room. The mattress sat abandoned on the floor, naked without the bedclothes that had disappeared with the bed frame. It was a sorry, lonely sight. George shook his head.
Georgina laughed, and set her squidger on the wink that Noah had retrieved for her. She paused long enough to catch Willy's eye, letting him note the angle of her proposed shot, and when he smiled back, she laughed again, and pushed with all her might. The wink went tumbling through the air once more, high, and off the table—her shot wasn't remotely in the right direction—with the wink landing at George's feet. Then, in rapid succession she sent all her winks to the same location, and when she was done, she threw up her hands and crowed, "Game OVER! WE LOSE!"
Across the table, Willy, squidger in one hand, clutched his side laughing with the other. He couldn't stop. Every time he looked at Georgina, he'd start again. "That's…" he started to say, only to run out of breath.
"We don't lose!"
George had the winks in his hand, returning them to behind the baseline. The others exchanged glances. Georgina was beaming, and Willy was still laughing, trying to catch his breath.
"Not…"
"I'll play!" said George.
"…How you play," Willy finally managed to whisper. There was something unfunny about George being the opponent, and that went a long way to scotching the giggles. "You only get one turn, and if the wink goes off the mat, you lose your next turn."
"How do you win the game?" asked Charlie.
"You get all of your winks into the pot," said his grandpa George, flipping a wink in that direction.
Willy held up a finger. Technically, they should have another squidge-off, but technically, you weren't supposed to play with eight people, and technically, who cared? Not him. He lowered his finger.
"That's one way, but if you play right, that hardy ever happens. The way you win, Charlie," Willy confided, "is by getting the most points. Watch."
And Charlie watched. Turns were taken; winks flew; the pot was advanced on. The others were heading for the pot, and so was Willy, but when he saw a pile of opponent's winks near each other, he'd flip one of his winks on top of theirs.
"Ha, ha, now you're squopped, and you can't play that wink."
"Squopped? You're making up words again," said George.
"I am not!"
"You can't play the wink?"
"You can only play your color, Charlie, and you can only play your color if it isn't covered. If we get can get all the others covered, we get free turns."
"This game looks silly on the surface, but it's quite complex," sighed Nora, whose turn it was. She doubted this game was what the evening was about; Willy was dressed to beat the band. His frock coat, in shades of charcoal, was as elaborate as anything she'd seen him wear. Short strips of fabric, placed diagonally on either side of the opening gave it a military feel. He might be in a marching band in that number. The fact that the fabric was velvet, and the strips alternated the direction of the velvet's nap, catching the light differently, made it opulent. The silk of his top hat glistened. The elders' bed disappearing was a clue. But the answer mustn't be that their house was ready. Three days wasn't enough time. And it was late; too late for something so momentous. The others were waiting for her play. Only one of her winks on the mat was uncovered, but a red wink was near it. Taking aim, with a delicate touch, she managed to land hers on top of that one. "Now you're squopped, Willy and Charlie. See how you like that!"
"You're catching on," said Willy, surveying the mat.
Nora wished she were, but she had no idea where Willy was going with this. Eshle took that moment to enter the room. Willy looked up, and then at the pocket watch he'd put on the table.
"Twenty-three minutes… We still have two minutes to go, and then five more rounds." The pocket watch was replaced in the pocket from whence it had come. Willy stood up. "Anybody want to play for two more minutes, and then five more rounds? Or..." he drew out the word, "do you want to go and see your house? Which you do is up to you guys, I'm easy. I've seen it."
But Willy was smiling like a four, almost five-year old on Christmas morning, and the Buckets knew there was no real choice. Charlie had jumped up with him, their grins identical, and Nora knew then, not how, but that these two had surely been in cahoots. She might be catching on, but if she were, she'd better speed it up. Right now, this minute, her stomach was awash in butterflies. Was it really finished? Was her house really set up in the Chocolate Room of Willy Wonka's Factory? With a ninety-foot chocolate fall in the background, and a river of chocolate in the foreground, and eatable everything elses, everywhere you looked? It couldn't be true, but here was Mr. Willy My-God-The-Man-Is-Strange Wonka himself about to escort them to their old, new home. Nora felt like she was four, almost five, and still believed in Santa Claus, the Tooth-fairy, and the Easter bunny. She'd better say something, before she lost it completely.
"Why, yes, I think that might be a nice idea. I'd like to see our house... if you don't think it's too late."
"It is late, but it's not a school-night," said Willy. "Let's go."
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.
Thank you reviewers Squirrela, and Linkwonka88. I thought I'd knock your socks off by updating in less than a month's time! I hope you enjoyed it.
