Summary: Noodle—her name is an aptronym, as are nearly all the names in the 2023 Wonka movie (except Willy's(?))—but as I watched the movie, Noodle's real name came to me in a heartbeat, and by extension, a few other names... This story reveals what I think that name is, and perhaps you will agree with me. Or perhaps not. In any event, please enjoy the story, spoilers and all.

Notes: A fragment of the For A Moment duet begins this story, but the song Willy sings later is to the tune of Pure Imagination, with the words altered by Willy to suit Noodle's situation. I don't own Wonka, and this is just for fun.

"Noodle, Noodle, apple strudel..."

That happy voice. That sweet voice. So much had happened since he'd sung those words to her. They'd milked a giraffe, sold chocolate using tricks and wits, opened Willy's first shop, watched it be destroyed by the Chocolate Cartel, and come up with a plan to take those cartel baddies down.

The plan had nearly failed, but the keyword there was 'nearly', and now, under a grey sky, in the late stages of a chilly afternoon, here they all were, enjoying more than a nibble of the Chocolate Cartel's gushing chocolate—modified, of course, by Willy—with said chocolate being thoroughly enjoyed by the whole town, for free.

Inside, deep down, Noodle felt warmth similar to the warmth of the liquid chocolate she was serving, and she didn't know which was sweeter, because the warmth she felt from inside came from knowing that she was, for the first time, and forever, free of the drudgery and cruelty of Scrubbit's and Bleacher's Guest House and Laundry.

Musing, Noodle poured the last of her pitcher of hot chocolate into the glass of a grateful little girl. Noodle felt no less grateful than that little girl for what had befallen her today. An orphan for all her life, today she'd discovered she had a family all her own. She'd discovered who her father was. And who her mother was. And that her father had died before she was born. And that that horrid, conniving, awful Arthur Slugworth was her uncle. But did she still have a mum in this world? That, she didn't know.

The chocolate was ebbing, and the crowd was thinning, and from atop the cathedral steps, a glint of gold caught Noodle's eye. Seated there, observing, Willy, in his breathtakingly beautiful embroidered plum coat, had unwrapped his long-dead mother's chocolate bar, a bar he had carried with him for all those years, through all his many travels. Noodle, knowing the love that bar held, took her place in the small knot of Scrubbit's survivors gathered at the bottom of the steps.

Willy's fingers brushed across the rectangle of gold atop the bar. Noodle could see it had marks on it, writing, and Willy was reading them. The warmth Noodle had felt before stoked itself into a golden glow. She had taught Willy to read! That Willy could read these words his mother had left him, well... she'd played a part in that!

Willy turned the sheet of gold over, and read more. And then he stood, and descended the steps to where they stood, the fountain's dwindling chocolate gurgling behind them, and he broke the bar into its six sections, and passed them out, the first to her, and then to the rest, and Noodle took hers, and held it, and waited until he ate his piece. And when he did, she heard him sigh, and he closed his eyes, and Noodle could feel in her eyes the gentle sting of the tears she knew were lurking behind those closed lashes. "Is it as good as you remember it, Willy?"

Her question brings him back to the present. Willy nods. "Yes. Better than I remember it."

The moment with his mother is gone, Noodle knows it, but what will replace it? Noodle doesn't know, but Willy does. She discovers the others are in on it. They set the stage for her, she doesn't know whether to believe them, but now, there is that happy voice, that sweet voice, that gentle voice, and it is Willy's, and he is singing to her.

"Come. With. Me."

Of course she'll go with him. He leads her away from the fountain. They pass beneath an arch. They cross a courtyard. They're through another arch, and across another courtyard, and now they're at another arch, and through this arch she can see the town's library. Willy has stopped, he will go no farther, this is for her to do, but he'll sing her encouragement, and he does.

"Reach out, touch, what was once just in your imagination..."

Yes, Willy is right, Noodle has told Willy her dream, her dream that served to make her life bearable. She imagined her mother, still alive, living in a house full of books, surrounded by them, because books were the other part of what made Noodle's life bearable. Inside books was where Noodle spent all the time she possibly could. Books can take you anywhere, anytime, as far away from where you are as you would want to get.

"Don't be shy, it's alright..."

Noodle looked up into Willy's eyes. Was it alright? Her tormentor, Mrs. Scrubbit, ridiculed Noodle for her reading. She called Noodle a bookworm—spitting it, like bookworm was a dirty word, a disgrace—but it was the worlds of those books that got Noodle through the many days and nights she spent locked up in The Coop. And now, here they were, in front of the town's library!

"...if you feel a little trepidation..."

Noodle did feel trepidation. A library is a house full of books! And Mr. Crunch had said this is where her mother lives! Could what was in your imagination really become this real? Real in every detail? Was she really about to meet her mother? Living in a house surrounded by books? The door opened, and a woman stepped out onto the stoop. Willy looked from Noodle to the woman, and back at Noodle, and Noodle knew it was true. That person, standing on that stoop, plucked right out of her dream, was her mother!

"Sometimes things don't need explanation."

Noodle would never forget Willy. How could she? He had freed her. And she had freed him. She had taught him to read, and he'd been able to read for himself the words his mother had left for him. But this was her future now, and with his blessing, she ran to it, another detail of her dream, and her mother caught her in her arms, and hugged her close, and Noodle knew she would never know Mrs. Scrubbit's cruelty again, or be locked up in The Coop for the slightest offense again, and Noodle hugged her mother tighter and knew she was home, home, and... and... 'There's no place like home!"

A tear fell from the corner of Noodle's eye as she relaxed before melting again into her mother's sweet scent of leather bindings and mocha, and she sighed at the rightness of the phrase that had popped into her mind from her books. Dorothy had said that. In The Wizard of Oz. Her mother's name was Dorothy. Willy had told her that. Caught up, Noodle didn't know it, but Willy was singing still, low, and to himself.

"If you want to view paradise, simply look at them and view it;
"Somebody to hold onto it's, all you really need, nothing else to it."

If she'd heard, the words would have made her sad, Willy had no family, no one to hold onto, but she didn't hear, and Noodle had found hers. When she withdrew from her mother's hug, Willy was gone.

Later, in their home in the library, after more hugs, and more explanations, and more hugs, and hot chocolate, and heartfelt apologizes for her mother believing Noodle to be dead, and more hugs, and a hot dinner, and more explanations, and Noodle telling her mother she'd got through her years of Mrs. Scrubbit's torture with books, and by imagining she was at a wretched boarding school, with a demonic headmistress, with a small closed-up space the demon used for punishment, and at the end of all those explanations of her imaginings, Noodle had a question.

"Mama?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Mrs. Scrubbit named me Noodle because she thought the zed on my ring was an 'N'. Does the name you gave me begin with a zed?"

Giving Noodle another hug, her mother laughed. "From what you've told me, dear, you used your noodle, every bit of the way, so Mrs. Scrubbit may not have been too far wrong when she decided to call you that. But that's not what I named you." Leaning in, with her nose she gave a playful nudge to Noodle's nose. "And I didn't lead with a zed. A zed comes last."

Noodle giggled. Yes, she had used her noodle, her brain, and that had been a good thing, and useful. But... "What did you name me, Mama?"

"Why, I named you Matilda, darling, strong and brave. And I think it suits you.

Noodle thought so, too, and so she was Matilda, forever after, and being Matilda, she thought her newfound mother—who everyone called Miss—as sweet as honey.

If it's not mine, it's in italics and in quotes, and from Wonka, unless otherwise noted. I can't vouch for the correctness of the quotes I've included here, but I think, if they're not exact, they're pretty close. Thanks for reading, and with no stats, I hope you'll reach out in some way if you liked it.