‘You mean Grandma may have got too much?’ asked Charlie, turning slightly pale.
‘I’m afraid that’s putting it rather mildly,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘But . . . but why did you give her such a lot of it, then?’ said Charlie, getting more and more worried. ‘Why did you spray her three times? She must have got pints and pints of it!’
‘Gallons!’ cried Mr Wonka, slapping his thighs. ‘Gallons and gallons! But don’t let a little thing like that bother you, my dear Charlie! The important part of it is we’ve got her back! She’s a Minus no longer! She’s a lovely Plus!
‘She’s as plussy as plussy can be!
She’s more plussy than you or than me!
The question is how,
Just how old is she now?
Is she more than a hundred and three?’
18
The Oldest Person in the World
‘We return in triumph, Charlie!’ cried Mr Wonka as the Great Glass Elevator began to slow down. ‘Once more your dear family will all be together again!’
The Elevator stopped. The doors slid open. And there was the Chocolate Room and the chocolate river and the Oompa-Loompas and in the middle of it all the great bed belonging to the old grandparents. ‘Charlie!’ said Grandpa Joe, rushing forward. ‘Thank heavens you’re back!’ Charlie hugged him. Then he hugged his mother and his father. ‘Is she here?’ he said. ‘Grandma Georgina?’
Nobody answered. Nobody did anything except Grandpa Joe, who pointed to the bed. He pointed but he didn’t look where he was pointing. None of them looked at the bed — except Charlie. He walked past them all to get a better view, and he saw at one end the two babies, Grandma Josephine and Grandpa George, both tucked in and sleeping peacefully. At the other end . . .
‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said Mr Wonka, running up and placing a hand on Charlie’s arm. ‘She’s bound to be just a teeny bit over-plussed. I warned you about that.’
‘What have you done to her?’ cried Mrs Bucket. ‘My poor old mother!’
Propped up against the pillows at the other end of the bed was the most extraordinary-looking thing Charlie had ever seen! Was it some ancient fossil? It couldn’t be that because it was moving slightly! And now it was making sounds! Croaking sounds — the kind of sounds a very old frog might make if it knew a few words. ‘Well, well, well,’ it croaked. ‘If it isn’t dear Charlie.’
‘Grandma!’ cried Charlie. ‘Grandma Georgina! Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh!’
Her tiny face was like a pickled walnut. There were such masses of creases and wrinkles that the mouth and eyes and even the nose were sunken almost out of sight. Her hair was pure white and her hands, which were resting on top of the blanket, were just little lumps of wrinkly skin.
The presence of this ancient creature seemed to have terrified not only Mr and Mrs Bucket, but Grandpa Joe as well. They stood well back, away from the bed. Mr Wonka, on the other hand, was as happy as ever. ‘My dear lady!’ he cried, advancing to the edge of the bed and clasping one of those tiny wrinkled hands in both of his. ‘Welcome home! And how are you feeling on this bright and glorious day?’
‘Not too bad,’ croaked Grandma Georgina. ‘Not too bad at all . . . considering my age.’
‘Good for you!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Atta girl! All we’ve got to do now is find out exactly how old you are! Then we shall be able to take further action!’
‘You’re taking no further action around here,’ said Mrs Bucket, tight-lipped. ‘You’ve done enough damage already!’
‘But my dear old muddleheaded mugwump,’ said Mr Wonka, turning to Mrs Bucket. ‘What does it matter that the old girl has become a trifle too old? We can put that right in a jiffy! Have you forgotten Wonka-Vite and how every tablet makes you twenty years younger? We shall bring her back! We shall transform her into a blossoming blushing maiden in the twink of an eye!’
‘What good is that when her husband’s not even out of his nappies yet?’ wailed Mrs Bucket, pointing a finger at the one-year-old Grandpa George, so peacefully sleeping.