ROALD DAHL. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Then Mrs Bucket said gently, ‘You mustn’t be too disappointed, my darling, if you don’t find what you’re looking for underneath that wrapper. You really can’t expect to be as lucky as all that.’

‘She’s quite right,’ Mr Bucket said.

Charlie didn’t say anything.

‘After all,’ Grandma Josephine said, ‘in the whole wide world there are only three tickets left to be found.’

‘The thing to remember,’ Grandma Georgina said, ‘is that whatever happens, you’ll still have the bar of chocolate.’

‘Wonka’s Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight!’ cried Grandpa George. ‘It’s the best of them all! You’ll just love it!’

‘Yes,’ Charlie whispered. ‘I know.’

‘Just forget all about those Golden Tickets and enjoy the chocolate,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘Why don’t you do that?’

They all knew it was ridiculous to expect this one poor little bar of chocolate to have a magic ticket inside it, and they were trying as gently and as kindly as they could to prepare Charlie for the disappointment. But there was one other thing that the grown-ups also knew, and it was this: that however small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance was there.

The chance had to be there.

This particular bar of chocolate had as much chance as any other of having a Golden Ticket.

And that was why all the grandparents and parents in the room were actually just as tense and excited as Charlie was, although they were pretending to be very calm.

‘You’d better go ahead and open it up, or you’ll be late for school,’ Grandpa Joe said.

‘You might as well get it over with,’ Grandpa George said.

‘Open it, my dear,’ Grandma Georgina said. ‘Please open it. You’re making me jumpy.’

Very slowly, Charlie’s fingers began to tear open one small corner of the wrapping paper.

The old people in the bed all leaned forward, craning their scraggy necks.

Then suddenly, as though he couldn’t bear the suspense any longer, Charlie tore the wrapper right down the middle . . . and on to his lap, there fell . . . a light-brown creamy-coloured bar of chocolate.

There was no sign of a Golden Ticket anywhere.

‘Well — that’s that!’ said Grandpa Joe brightly. ‘It’s just what we expected.’

Charlie looked up. Four kind old faces were watching him intently from the bed. He smiled at them, a small sad smile, and then he shrugged his shoulders and picked up the chocolate bar and held it out to his mother, and said, ‘Here, Mother, have a bit. We’ll share it. I want everybody to taste it.’

‘Certainly not!’ his mother said.

And the others all cried, ‘No, no! We wouldn’t dream of it! It’s all yours!’

‘Please,’ begged Charlie, turning round and offering it to Grandpa Joe.

But neither he nor anyone else would take even a tiny bit.

‘It’s time to go to school, my darling,’ Mrs Bucket said, putting an arm around Charlie’s skinny shoulders. ‘Come on, or you’ll be late.’

8

Two More Golden Tickets Found

That evening, Mr Bucket’s newspaper announced the finding of not only the third Golden Ticket, but the fourth as well. TWO GOLDEN TICKETS FOUND TODAY, screamed the headlines. ONLY ONE MORE LEFT.

‘All right,’ said Grandpa Joe, when the whole family was gathered in the old people’s room after supper, ‘let’s hear who found them.’

‘The third ticket,’ read Mr Bucket, holding the newspaper up close to his face because his eyes were bad and he couldn’t afford glasses, ‘the third ticket was found by a Miss Violet Beauregarde. There was great excitement in the Beauregarde household when our reporter arrived to interview the lucky young lady — cameras were clicking and flashbulbs were flashing and people were pushing and jostling and trying to get a bit closer to the famous girl. And the famous girl was standing on a chair in the living room waving the Golden Ticket madly at arm’s length as though she were flagging a taxi. She was talking very fast and very loudly to everyone, but it was not easy to hear all that she said because she was chewing so ferociously upon a piece of gum at the same time.

‘”I’m a gum chewer, normally,” she shouted, “but when I heard about these ticket things of Mr Wonka’s, I gave up gum and started on chocolate bars in the hope of striking lucky. Now, of course, I’m back on gum. I just adore gum. I can’t do without it. I munch it all day long except for a few minutes at mealtimes when I take it out and stick it behind my ear for safekeeping. To tell you the truth, I simply wouldn’t feel comfortable if I didn’t have that little wedge of gum to chew on every moment of the day, I really wouldn’t. My mother says it’s not ladylike and it looks ugly to see a girl’s jaws going up and down like mine do all the time, but I don’t agree. And who’s she to criticize, anyway, because if you ask me, I’d say that her jaws are going up and down almost as much as mine are just from yelling at me every minute of the day.”

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