It was cold. A chilly evening, rather.
I was walking back to my home after picking up some bread as a treat for my adopted family: the Buckets.
They took me in when I was a wee child of, oh, age of five, maybe? It had been so long ago. After all, being two weeks from today, it'll be my twenty-seventh birthday.
My mom died at my birth, and a few years later, my father was killed in a factory accident. He was good friends with the Bucket family, and asked them to take me in if anything was to happen to him.
So the Bucket family did just that. They took me in as their own. I was old enough to know that they weren't my real parents, and they knew I was. So I called them by Mr. and Mrs. Bucket.
The Bucket family might not have been the richest, nor the most powerful, nor well-connected. They rarely had anything to eat, with a little cabbage patch in their small yard for food. And their son, Charlie, was not as fast, clever, nor strong as the other children may be, but he certainly was the sweetest to everyone he met.
Charlie called me his older sister, despite me being unrelated to him. The young boy was born the month I turned fifteen. And just a couple days from today, he will be turning the joyous age of twelve!
I reached the Bucket's door, and knocked, letting myself in.
"Evening, Buckets!" I called to them all, shutting the door behind me.
"Evening, Mary!" Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine replied gladly.
"Evening," Grandpa George said.
"I love soup!" Grandma Georgina chirped gleefully. I chuckled at her random notation.
"Hi, Mary!" Charlie exclaimed, tackling me into a hug. I nearly stumbled back, but managed to regain my footing, wrapping my arms around my younger brother.
"Hey, Charlie," I said. I let him go and walked to the kitchen where Mrs. Bucket was stirring her pot of cabbage soup. I stood right next to her, bringing out my loaf of bread.
"Thought we ought to have a treat today, so I bought us this with this week's wages of mine," I told her.
She looked at the bread, her eyes widening by the second. "Oh my! That is far too kind of you, dear! Thank you!"
She hugged me quickly and took the bread from my hands, slicing off some pieces. I smiled and headed over to the grandparents, turning on the television.
"Anything new today?" I asked them.
"Not today," Grandpa Joe answered me. "It's been the same news about the weather."
Just then, I heard the door open and close. Mr. Bucket's voice carried throughout the small house. "Evening, Buckets!"
Grandpa Joe replied, "Evening."
Charlie, who came to sit next to me, called back, "Hi, Dad!"
Mr. Bucket waved at him and walked into the kitchen to greet Mrs. Bucket. Mrs. Bucket told him quietly, "Soup's almost ready, darling."
She gave him a light peck on the cheek in greeting. Returning her focus to the soup, she asked him, "Er, don't suppose there's anything extra to put in, love?"
I leaned on the door frame to the kitchen, and watched them, smiling softly. Mr. Bucket shrugged slightly, and Mrs. Bucket sighed. "Oh well. Nothing goes better with cabbage than cabbage."
Mr. Bucket turned and smiled at me, hugging me tightly. "Mary, how are you?"
"I'm splendid! I bought us a loaf for a side tonight. Thought we should have a little treat," I said. He beamed at me. Charlie leaped up and hugged his father. He then went to the table, pulling out his school books and starting on his homework.
"That's thoughtful of you, dear!" he cheered. He then faced Charlie excitedly, taking a seat next to him. "Charlie... I found something I think you'll like."
Mr. Bucket must've gotten him a few more deformed toothpaste caps. He works at the local toothpaste factory, for long hours of the day, and terrible pay. But there were unexpected surprises, occasionally.
Charlie grew excited in the euphoria of receiving the toothpaste caps. "It's exactly what I need!"
He then raced over to the cabinet where he kept his model of the famous chocolatier's factory.
"What is it, Charlie?" Grandpa Joe asked curiously.
"Dad found it, just the piece I needed!" He placed the model onto the small table by his school work.
Grandpa Joe tried to catch a glimpse of Charlie's model. "What piece was it?"
"A head for Willy Wonka." Charlie smiled as he secured the piece onto his model. It was a fantastic model, it was!
Grandma Josephine smiled. "Well, how wonderful!"
"It's quite a likeness," Grandpa Joe claimed once he saw the model.
"You think so?" Charlie looked at him skeptically.
Grandpa Joe scoffed and said wonderfully, "Think so? I know so. I saw Willy Wonka with my own two eyes. I used to work for him, you know."
"You did?" Charlie's eyes widened in excitement. I smiled at Charlie, remembering when Grandpa Joe told me of his time working for the chocolatier.
"I did," Grandpa Joe repeated.
"He did," acknowledged Grandma Josephine.
"He did," reassured Grandpa George.
Unexpectedly, Grandma Georgina cheered yet another random statement. "I love grapes!"
I giggled at her announcement, covering my mouth with my hand. Even though they aren't my grandparents by blood, I still have the instinct to call them my own, being they delighted me each day.
Grandpa Joe continued to tell Charlie of his history. "Of course, I was a much younger man in those days. Willy Wonka began with a single store on Cherry Street. But the whole world wanted his candy.
"The man was a genius. Did you know, he invented a new way of making chocolate ice cream, so that it stays cold for hours without a freezer? You can even leave it lying in the sun on a hot day, and it won't go runny."
"But that's impossible," Charlie argued, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"You would think," I agreed.
Grandpa raised his hand and pointed a finger. "But Willy Wonka did it. Before long, he decided to build a proper chocolate factory. The largest chocolate factory in history. Fifty times as big as any other. That very day, when the gates were finally opened, I remember giving your grandmother a huge kiss—"
"Grandpa, don't make it gross." Charlie scrunched his nose, and I laughed.
"I think it's cute," I said, still giggling.
"Tell him about the Indian prince. He'd like to hear about that," Grandma Josephine nudged to Grandpa Joe.
"You mean Prince Pondicherry?" Grandpa Joe asked her. She nodded and smiled. "Well, Prince Pondicherry wrote a letter to Mr. Wonka and asked him to come all the way out to India and build him a colossal palace entirely out of chocolate.
"True to his word, the bricks were chocolate and the cement holding them together was chocolate. All the walls and ceilings were made of chocolate as well. So were the carpets and the pictures, and the furniture. Mr. Wonka warned the Prince that he would have to start eating it right away, otherwise it would melt. But the Prince ignored Mr. Wonka's warning.
"But Mr. Wonka was right, of course. Soon after this, there came a very hot day with a boiling sun. The prince sent and urgent telegram requesting a new palace, but Willy Wonka was facing problems of his own. All the other chocolate makers, you see, had grown jealous of Mr. Wonka. They began sending in spies to steal his secret recipes. Ficklegrüber started making an ice cream that would never melt. Prodnose came out with a chewing gum that never lost its flavour. Then Slugworth began making candy balloons that you could blow up to incredible sizes. The thievery got so bad that one day, without warning, Mr. Wonka told every single one of his workers to go home. He announced that he was closing his chocolate factory for ever."
I frowned at that, disappointed that people would want to steal someone else's life work, just because the don't have the creative originality that Mr. Wonka does. Such a shame...
"But it didn't close for ever. It's open right now," Charlie denied. I nodded. I, too, noticed the smoke rising from the factory's chimneys, and the red delivery trucks driving across the snowy lanes.
"Ah, yes. Well, sometimes when grown-ups say 'for ever', they mean 'a very long time'," Mrs. Bucket explained to him in a whisper.
"Such as, 'I feel like I've eaten nothing but cabbage soup for ever',"Grandpa George grunted. I shook my head and sighed.
"Now, Pops," Mr. Bucket corrected, giving Grandpa George a look.
Grandma Josephine clarified, "The factory did close, Charlie."
Grandpa Joe continued from her point, "And it seemed like it was going to be closed for ever. Then one day we saw smoke rising from the chimneys. The factory was back in business."
"Did you get your job back?" Charlie wondered. I smiled sadly, walking to the kitchen to get a slice of bread.
"No. No one did," he stated. A sad silence settled over us as we began to eat our dinner.
"But there must be people working there." Charlie looked at Grandpa Joe with curiosity like no other.
"Think about it, Charlie. Have you ever seen a single person going into that factory, or coming out of it?" Grandma Josephine had a point there.
"No. The gates are always closed," Charlie said simply. I nodded to Charlie's answer.
"Exactly," Grandpa Joe finished.
"But then, who's running the machines?"
"That is the question we all want an answer to, isn't it, Charlie?" I called from the kitchen.
"Nobody knows, Charlie," Mrs. Bucket murmured.
"It certainly is a mystery," Mr. Bucket agreed.
"Hasn't someone asked Mr. Wonka?"
I walked back in, swallowing a bite of bread. "If only we'd see him in the light of day, Charlie."
"Mary's right. Nobody sees him anymore. He never comes out. The only thing that comes out of that place, is the candy... already packed and addressed. I'd give anything in the world just to go in one more time, and see what's become of that amazing factory." Grandpa Joe gained a dazed look, getting lost in a daydream.
Grandpa George grumpily announced, "Well, you won't, because you can't. No one can. It's a mystery and it will always be a mystery. That little factory of yours, Charlie, is as close as any of us is ever going to get."
I scowled at his words, rather miffed with the crushing truth he laid on Charlie's shoulders. "Nothing wrong with dreamin'."
I turned toward the kitchen again and muttered, "Have a heart," under my breath.
"Come on, Charlie. I think it's time we let your grandparents get some sleep," Mrs. Bucket chided, not wanting Charlie to get saddened on that dwelling thought. She put an arm around Charlie.
"Okay. Goodnight, Grandpa George."
"Night, Charlie."
Charlie bid to the rest of the grandparents goodnight, giving them all a hug.
"Night-night," Grandma Josephine said with a smile.
"Night, Grandpa Joe. Goodnight, Grandma Georgina."
"Nothing's impossible, Charlie," Grandma Georgina said with a sweet smile in his ear.
Charlie released her from his hug, and tried to crack a smile, but frowned when he turned for his bed. "Goodnight."
"Night, Charlie," we all said. Mrs. Bucket added, "Sleep well."
"I think it's time I catch a wink, too, Mrs. Bucket. Goodnight, Buckets!" I nodded as I climbed up the ladder to Charlie's and my bedroom.
"Goodnight, Mary!" they all told me from below.
"How was school, Charlie?" I asked him.
He shrugged, lying on his side in his bed, and said, "It was okay."
His voice was hoarse, and I could tell he was upset. I went to his bedside and kneeled by him.
"Hey, it'll be okay. One day, I promise you, we both will get to see the great Mr. Wonka." I kissed his forehead and laid down on my own bed, immediately falling asleep.