Chapter Text
Charlie's timid hand stole into Terence's.
"Do you think," he started, in his quiet voice, "if Willy gets too far ahead, we'll get lost?"
Terence looked down, seeing only the lank, brown hair on the top of Charlie's head, Charlie's resolute eyes glued on the receding form that had all but disappeared in the gloom. As if a firefly were leading them, random flashes of light, reflections off the ridged spirals of Willy's walking-stick, were all they could see.
Terence gave the small hand in his a squeeze, as he looked again to the tunnel in front of them. Retreating by advancing, an interesting strategy, but as far as Willy's present departure went, Terence had his suspicions. 'How can they talk about me, if I'm there?' It was Willy's blithe explanation for sending Terence—instead of attending himself—to a dinner at the Buckets', after Charlie's private tour had ended. Terence remembered the observation now. This had that feel. By this time, Willy had disappeared.
"I suspect, Charlie, there's only one person in this factory who could lose himself in it, which isn't the same as being lost in it, if you catch my drift, and that person just showed you a picture of his mother. As for the rest of us, we may not know where we are, but someone in this Factory does, and they would come and find us."
His upper teeth gently finding the edge of his lower lip, Charlie took his eyes off the dimness ahead, glancing up at Terence. Charlie hoped that was true, but it wasn't his real worry. His real worry, he didn't know if he should bring up. He'd seen the photo. Terence hadn't. What had gone wrong in Charlie's family could be fixed with regular meals, but if that was the picture of his mother Willy treasured, food wouldn't touch what had gone wrong in Willy's family. Not even very sweet food. But Terence had been here. Willy knew that.
"Do you think so?"
It was hard to see, but Terence could hear. There was pain in Charlie's voice; pain for a loss not his own.
"I do, Charlie, you bet, every time. With as many Oompa-Loompas as there are, how could it be otherwise?"
Speaking, listening, Terence was also sorting facts. Willy had said he'd seen a picture of his mother on her passport. And he'd said he hadn't been able to keep it. So this picture wasn't that picture. Passport photos… they show the face, full on. And having shown him this picture's case in his office, and telling him he'd taken it with him to Libby's today, to see if he had a learning curve, but not earlier claiming it as a picture of his mother… there had to be something odd about this one. Blurred, maybe? Stained?
Willy's voice stirred in Terence's head. 'So ask. I'm elsewhere'. Yeah, I get that, old chap, but I'm not gonna. From what you've told me, and shown me, I have my suspicions, and that's enough. There's prying and spying, and here and now, neither suits.
"There aren't any Oompa-Loompas here."
Keeping hold of Charlie's hand, Terence kept his voice chipper.
"Now that you mention it, I suspect you're right. But notice, Charlie, so far, this tunnel is a straight shot. No intersecting tunnels. And there are no doors leading off it. I suspect Willy knows we can't get lost. We just have to follow our noses, and we'll be fine."
"Okay."
Charlie was slowing, his shoulders tense. He thought it again. Terence had been with them when Willy showed him the snapshot. That must mean something. Turning, Charlie withdrew his hand, and stopped. Terence had been here. Charlie hoped that meant spilling the beans was okay.
"Terence?"
Terence almost laughed. Willy rubbed off on everyone around him.
"Charlie."
"That photo had no head."
Delving into it now was different. He hadn't been the one to bring it up.
"Headless, you say?" That wasn't the surprise it would have been, had Willy not given him the clues to let him suss it out, and Terence's tone was as blasé as he could make it. "D'ya think our Willy is related to the Headless Horseman, by way of the distaff side?"
Terence's lack of a shocked reaction was reassuring, and the encouragement Charlie needed.
"It's not funny, Terence!" Who knew what 'distaff side' meant, but Charlie didn't care. Terence didn't get it! "Her head was torn off, and most of her shoulders. And the paper was all full of creases, like someone had made it into a ball. Willy was in it. He was standing in front of her, like in the picture over at Dr. Grant's house, with his other mother."
"Thea."
"Mrs. Grant," Charlie agreed, less agitated, pleased with Terence's now somber demeanor. "Anyway, the part of the picture Willy was in wasn't torn. He was really young looking." Charlie knit his brows. "Way younger than I am. And he was really happy. Not that fake happy he does sometimes… really happy."
"So that's good."
"But it's sad." Charlie said, his eyes imploring. "Who would have torn it like that? And mashed it up?
"Ya got me, kiddo." But Terence had a pretty good idea. Dollars to doughnuts, the mangler would a much older someone Terence had met on the spear side, who had given him chills. "No one we want to know, I suspect."
Charlie forced a brave smile. "You suspect a lot of things."
"I suspect so do you. And I suspect if we don't get a move on, Willy will get tired of waiting, and leave without us. Your grandma wants your grandpa back."
Charlie didn't budge.
"Taking away someone's house, without telling them, is a bad thing." Charlie swallowed, his slim fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. "But it was one thing. With this, there are two things." Charlie swallowed again, but afterward, his jaw was set. "Are there more things?"
"I suspect so," Terence said, after a considering pause, his voice deliberate. "Would that make you not want to stay?"
Charlie had whirled at 'suspect so', and Terence wasn't sure if Charlie had heard the question. He was off at a jog, the way Willy had gone. Terence had to hustle to catch up, and doing so, discovered Charlie had heard him. But the answer was muffled, as Charlie didn't bother to look back.
"No! It makes me want to be there, in case Willy wants to remember anything else!"