Sorry, sorry, sorry for as long as this update has taken. This is a bad time of year for me, and that's a fact.
And then Willy was slowing down again, letting Nora catch up.
"Does it bother you, that your pater is moving out of the Factory?"
It does, yes, thought Nora, frowning at the floor and shaking her head. It bothered her a lot. She'd spent every day, for years, taking care of the four of them. Willy Wonka willy-nilly feeds them some candy—not even big pieces—and hey, presto! two of them are thinking they can take care of themselves. Half her job gone, overnight … she knew now some of what Noah must have felt when he laid eyes on that toothpaste cap applying machine. "What is it you put in that candy you give them?"
With tilted head and raised brow, Willy paused, only to then give an offhand shrug of his shoulders. "Not the question in play, dear lady."
At the movement, Nora stole a glance, to find Willy studiously staring ahead, determinedly detached from whatever she might say. "Does it bother you that my pater is keen to abandon your Shangri-la?"
"Nope; you won't find me keening over it. 'A change is as good as a rest'. No one can see my Factory and not miss it. He'll be back. Is there a reason you won't answer?"
"Terence has seen your Factory," said Nora, following the abrupt turn Willy had made into another downward sloping corridor. "So, according to your thinking Terence will be back; and also according to your thinking he won't be back."
Now there was a table turned. These Buckets were deeper than they looked. With no quick quip coming to mind, Willy's eyes darted from side-to-side, as if his surroundings might have the solution to the legitimate contradiction she described. The walls were as blank as his mind. He gave a nervous giggle, and fell back on assertion. "I know Terence better than you do."
"I know my father better than you do. He may not be back, and yes, it does bother me. Now that times are happier, I thought we'd be together to enjoy them, but it seems that happier circumstances are having the opposite effect. I want my father to be happy, but I wanted him to be happy with all of us, where we can see each other every day. And my mother is going with him, and I don't know if she's only doing that to make him happy. I know she loves your Factory; the Chocolate Room, at least, and all of this is making me sad, because I don't know how it will turn out, and…"
And then, surprising herself, Nora's voice caught, her throat suddenly tight, beside she hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding on to the family itself, to hold herself together through the hard times she'd faced. The hard times were over, and changes were everywhere … she looked to Willy, who was listening as intently as she'd ever seen him listen, and with an effort she collected herself, to go on.
"And—"
"And I'm sorry this is making you sad," Willy cut in, with a flourish of walking-stick. "From the sound of it, 'happy' with a familia in the mix is tricky business; trickier than my humble self can hope to fathom, so I shall not try. Instead I shall show you something that I hope will cheer you up, and assure you that, in my experience, in the end, it shall all turn out fine and dandy! Everything comes out in the wash, you know…"
He nodded, the frequency of his head's oscillations making Nora dizzy, not half wondering if his hat would fall off.
"Just you wait and see!"
Nora, eyes moist, marveling at the respite that speech had given her, changed the subject, knowing that doing so would serve as a 'thank you'. "What are you going to show me?"
"Swiss cheese, my dear lady," said Willy, bowing as he pushed a button on the wall that would call a lift. "Swiss cheese, and I think you will like it very much."
Charlie hadn't believed Willy would continue walking him to and from school for more than a day or two, but here it was, day three, and as he crossed the street, leaving Mrs. Stemple behind, there was Willy approaching, with a spring in his step, his face impassive. Charlie wondered which to believe. The two paths crossed, with Willy continuing a step beyond before twirling in the exaggerated manner of a sentry changing direction, and falling neatly into step with Charlie.
"Iron filings."
"Iron filings?"
"Iron filings," affirmed Willy. "I see you are a magnet, pulling iron filings behind you."
Charlie turned round to see a number of his schoolmates following at a distance. "Oh. Them. I think you're the magnet. At lunchtime today, a bunch of them asked me why you moved our house into the Factory."
"Ha! Knew they would! Chickens, as long as it took 'em." Flapping his elbows, Willy made chicken noises. "What'd ya tell 'em?"
"I told them that you thought the dump and our house were an eyesore; you got tired of looking at them; the city wasn't going to do anything about it, so you'd thought you'd make the dump into a park, and you moved our house into your Factory so you wouldn't see it anymore."
"Couldn't I have fixed up your house?"
"You're eccentric."
Willy giggled with delight. "Maybe. Do I spend a lot of time looking out my windows?" He paused, but raised a quieting hand when Charlie made to answer, the giggles holding on. "You and Terence are determined I make a park of that dump, aren't you?"
"I tried to think of something that went along with what Terence told the newspaper person."
"Felix? The wonderful, wonderful blob? Terence owes you. Did Terence tell you about Guy de Maupassant when you were sitting on that bench all those days? Sorry."
Charlie barely heard the sorry, and even so ignored it. They hadn't know each other well then; Willy had nothing to be sorry for. "Guy de who?"
"I'll take that as a 'no'. I told Terence that Guy de Maupassant, a French writer—and he wrote in French, too—disliked la tour Eiffel so much, he had lunch in it every day, so he wouldn't have to look at it." Content, Willy added a sashay to his step before asking, "Who am I?"
Charlie knit his brow. "Who are you?"
"In your story, dear Charlie! In your story… to them!" A toss of Willy's head to the rear caught Charlie up to Willy's meaning.
"Oh, you! You're a spy from Mr. Slugworth's factory. You read about my house being moved, and you're trying to get me to tell you secrets about Mr. Wonka's Factory so Mr. Slugworth will promote you."
Charlie smiled to hear more giggles from his friend.
"I am? I do? And yet we walk along so peacefully together."
"Because I'm trying to pry information from you, to give to Mr. Wonka."
Spy versus spy, thought Willy, but that I don't need. All I need to know about Mr. Slugworth and his rubbish I know by his output. "Do you think they believe any of this—inventive, I must say—story you've spun them?"
"I think they do. They're not coming closer. And it explains why you don't stay with me when we get near the Factory. You don't want Mr. Wonka to see you."
"Good thinking, though there's little danger of that, without a reflective surface presenting itself."
"And I told them I can't tell you or them anything about the Factory, because in the interest of safety, my family is only allowed in the entrance hall and the Chocolate Room."
Willy, taken aback, raised a brow. "In the interest of safety? Do tell."
"Because of what happened to the children on the tour. That so upset you, you've closed off the rooms in your Factory to everyone, forever, so nothing like that can ever happen again."
"How caring I am," laughed Willy, "and how concerned, but how you underestimate the machinations of the dastardly to do the despicable! But well done! It is an excellent explanation. And you doubt your inventiveness, Charlie! Do you still? I don't believe their belief will last, but perhaps it will get us to the weekend … one day left!" A finger in the air made the point, and then it descended to point at Charlie. "They're gonna be mad at you when they find out you were fibbing. Say I said to say it, which is not to say, I hope you know, that I'm saying I'm claiming your work. What I am saying is, when the time comes, blame me."
"Are they going to find out?" Charlie's look was side-long, but sincere. "Are you going to keep doing this? I thought you were doing this for practice, to go and see your father. You've seen your father."
At Charlie's tone and look, Willy sobered up. "So right, I've seen him, and having seen him, I'll be doing this right up until the day he dies." Plastering his face with a broad grin that was painful to see, Willy finished his thought. "You're on your own after that."
Charlie looked away, the difference in the way the two of them viewed their fathers being just shy of incomprehensible. "My parents could do this. You don't have to."
"They could, but that would be me passing the buck, and to people who may have read about the human equivalent of a Honey Badger, but to people who have never met one. I have. Besides, do you want to be cooped up in the Factory all your life? Be mobbed by people every time you leave? I wouldn't, and I wasn't. I've only had my Factory for fifteen years, and been snobbish for a little over ten, and I'm a lot older than fifteen, or twenty-six, or even thirty-five."
Agreeing with not liking the cooped-up concept, Charlie shook his head.
"Then we gotta make you mundane, and that means making me mundane. Unseen won't do it."
"But you're… You make the best… How are you going to do that?"
Willy smiled at Charlie's disbelief. "I have plans for when they descend. And now I shall make your story true, and peel off. Be sure to ask your mater how she liked the Swiss cheese … If she hasn't gotten herself lost. She does that."
"The Swiss cheese?"
"You remember… all the caverns underneath my Factory, that I've turned into rooms, and pastures, and gardens, and whatever else I need; they're holes in the earth, like the holes in Swiss cheese. Ask her about my cows that give chocolate milk. I'm very proud of them. I left her at the entrance to their pasture." Willy had turned away, but Charlie could still hear him. "She told me that having shown her those places, I can show yer pater the library."
With Willy gone, Charlie ran the rest of the way home, leaving the iron filings behind, and for the first time in his living memory, found his house almost empty. It was oddly unbalancing. Grandpa Joe looked up from the sweeping he was doing, and Grandma Josephine, ensconced in the bed, made a disapproving noise that meant Charlie should show some decorum. Caught by its hiss, Charlie put the brakes on.
"Where is everyone?"
"We're here, your mother's not back from her trek into the Factory, your father's at the toothpaste factory, and you know where your other grandparents are: at Terence's shop."
"Oh."
Charlie did know, and feeling a pang of sadness he thought misplaced, sat down to do his homework at the dinner table. Slowly, his family filtered back in. His father was first, with a cheery 'evening, Buckets', amended to an 'evening, some Buckets', when he saw the usual compliment missing; then his mum, a basket of fresh vegetables slung on one arm, and a jug of chocolate milk held in her other hand, beaming as she hummed a happy tune.
"You must try this milk, Charlie, everyone! It's heavenly!"
"Before dinner?"
Caught up by her wanderings, confused at the objection, Nora remembered herself, and laughed. "Yes, before dinner, Josephine, dear, but it is chocolate, and perhaps we should have it for dessert. We will have it for dessert, and when you've had it, you'll wish you'd let me give you some now."
As dinner was being served, George and Georgina trickled through the door. Grandpa Joe hastened to set two more places. There was plenty of food.
"I thought you'd deserted us," said Nora, with a smile.
"Deserted you we have, dearest," crowed Georgina, "the soonest to happen, but stars shine on a wasteland!"
"She means," said George, "not tonight. There's not a stick of furniture in that flat that's not in Terence's room, and that bed's little better than a cot. She refuses to stay there until the guest room has been done up."
"With this comfy place waiting, I wouldn't either," agreed Noah, with Nora nodding.
"Flowers!" Georgina made herself comfortable at the table. "Fresh flowers! I'll see them tomorrow!"
The babble of his grandparents filled the room. Eyes shining at the camaraderie all around him, Charlie grinned. His family was alive in a way he'd never known. They were like a river, making its merry way around whatever it encountered, but flowing back together at the first opportunity, only to move on again. This was the new reality: change. It was a lot to take in, after so many years of grinding sameness. Charlie, watching the fluttering of unfolding napkins, the passing of plates filled with steaming food, and listening to the banter of his once again brought together family, found his heart full to bursting. How could he add more, and still survive? Wouldn't he burst like a bubble? It seemed best not to find out. He could barely unfurl his own napkin, let alone eat the food in front of him. His mother noticed.
"A penny for your thoughts, Charlie."
"Don't answer until you see the penny, Charlie," said George. "Pass the green beans, please."
"She doesn't need to show a penny. It's a figure of speech."
"Coppers catch criminals!"
The grandparents carried on, Charlie lowering his head, and picking up his fork. If he played this right, their comments, like that river, would swept the moment of his answering away.
"Aren't you hungry, Charlie?"
His father's offering silenced the others, and with it, salvation. Charlie knew he'd have to answer.
"I was thinking about rivers."
"What about rivers?"
"They're not like ponds." All eyes were fixed on him, telling Charlie to go on. "I was thinking that our family used to be like a pond: together, but not doing much. Now we're doing more, so we're more like a river. We part, choosing different ways, but we come together again, so it's okay."
"Ponds are nice," said Noah, thinking all the while what breeding grounds for pestilence they were.
"Rivers are more exciting," sniffed George.
"Which would you say Willy's Factory is, Charlie?"
"Gosh, mum, I never thought about it. I was thinking about us."
And Charlie never had thought about it. But maybe he should. Willy's Factory was part of 'us' now. Which was it? Charlie picked up a mouthful of potato, and began chewing. Georgina, sitting next to him, put her hand over his hand on the table.
"It's a pond, with a river in it."
Charlie smiled, imagining the size of a place that could boast such a thing. That would be this place! But it had been a pond. A pond with lots going on in it, that was true, but with not much changing in it. The piece of fried chicken on his plate was looking tempting. Mr. Wonka was a master inventor. He invented everything he wanted, or needed. Seeing inside his Factory was proof of that. Was Charlie's family his latest invention?
"It was a river when he opened it," said Charlie, when the crunch of chicken coating had worn to where it could be swallowed. "Everyone coming and going; then it turned into a pond, just like us. No one coming or going; just the candy going out. But with us here, that has to change. I guess I'd say it's a river again."
George gave a snort. "If it is, it's the Meander."
"Meander? What does he mean, mum? Dad?"
"He means, Charlie, that it's a river with very little movement," answered Noah, the reader. "The Meander River has so many bends and turns in its lower section that in ancient times it gave its name to the bends in any river."
"It gave its name to pointlessness and convolutions is what I mean," grumped George. "This place is as convoluted as it gets."
"That's its appeal, Dad," said Nora. "And I suspect, with us here, the current will pick up. I hope Willy knows that."
Charlie, hungry now, suspected that Willy did know that, and, spearing a buttered green bean with his fork, wondered what the plan Willy had for the iron filings was.
I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in any of its many forms, and there is no copyright infringement intended. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you reviewers, oh, so much.
Squirrela: 'We may be lost, but we're making good time'. Well, as long as this update took, maybe not, but we're closer than we were. mattTheWriter072: Thanks for your words of encouragement; without the feedback one never knows. "Things are going to get a lot better!" and "Nothing is impossible, Charlie." Strangely, whenever it was important, Georgina spoke in complete sentences. It made me think the others bored her, and she was having them on. Sonny April: Here's more of Georgina making sense when she wants to: "You smell like peanuts. I love peanuts." Forgetting about peanuts, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though where they went is only mentioned in passing. Dionne Dance: Now there's an idea: Josephine cataloguing the GGE buttons, and when she's finished, insisting Willy put them all in alphabetical order. I can see her tearing out the wires to start the project. Thanks for catching up, and I hope you've enjoyed the latest.
