Then there was silence. Mr Wonka was itching to turn around and look, but he forced himself to wait. Out of the corner of one eye he could see a group of Oompa-Loompas, all motionless, their eyes fixed intently in the direction of the big bed over by the Elevator. Then Charlie’s voice broke the silence. ‘Wow!’ he was shouting. ‘Just look at that! It’s . . . it’s incredible!’
‘I can’t believe it!’ Grandpa Joe was yelling. ‘They’re getting younger and younger! They really are! Just look at Grandpa George’s hair!’
‘And his teeth!’ cried Charlie. ‘Hey, Grandpa! You’re getting lovely white teeth all over again!’
‘Mother!’ shouted Mrs Bucket to Grandma Georgina. ‘Oh, Mother! You’re beautiful! You’re so young! And just look at Dad!’ she went on, pointing at Grandpa George. ‘Isn’t he handsome!’
‘What’s it feel like, Josie?’ asked Grandpa Joe excitedly. ‘Tell us what it feels like to be back to thirty again! . . . Wait a minute! You look younger than thirty! You can’t be a day more than twenty now! . . . But that’s enough, isn’t it! . . . I should stop there if I were you! Twenty’s quite young enough! . . .’
Mr Wonka shook his head sadly and passed a hand over his eyes. Had you been standing very close to him you would have heard him murmuring softly under his breath, ‘Oh, deary deary me, here we go again . . .’
‘Mother!’ cried Mrs Bucket, and now there was a shrill note of alarm in her voice. ‘Why don’t you stop, Mother! You’re going too far! You’re way under twenty! You can’t be more than fifteen! . . . You’re . . . you’re . . . you’re ten . . . you’re getting smaller, Mother!’
‘Josie!’ shouted Grandpa Joe. ‘Hey, Josie! Don’t do it, Josie! You’re shrinking! You’re a little girl! Stop her, somebody! Quick!’
‘They’re all going too far!’ cried Charlie.
‘They took too much,’ said Mr Bucket.
‘Mother’s shrinking faster than any of them!’ wailed Mrs Bucket. ‘Mother! Can’t you hear me, Mother? Can’t you stop?’
‘My heavens, isn’t it quick!’ said Mr Bucket, who seemed to be the only one enjoying it. ‘It really is a year a second!’
‘But they’ve hardly got any more years left!’ wailed Grandpa Joe.
‘Mother’s no more than four now!’ Mrs Bucket cried out. ‘She’s three . . . two . . . one . . . Gracious me! What’s happening to her! Where’s she gone? Mother? Georgina! Where are you? Mr Wonka! Come quickly! Come here, Mr Wonka! Something frightful’s happened! Something’s gone wrong! My old mother’s disappeared!’
Mr Wonka sighed and turned around and walked slowly and quite calmly back toward the bed.
‘Where’s my mother?’ bawled Mrs Bucket.
‘Look at Josephine!’ cried Grandpa Joe. ‘Just look at her! I ask you!’
Mr Wonka looked first at Grandma Josephine. She was sitting in the middle of the huge bed, bawling her head off. ‘Wa! Wa! Wa!’ she said. ‘Wa! Wa! Wa! Wa! Wa!’
‘She’s a screaming baby!’ cried Grandpa Joe. ‘I’ve got a screaming baby for a wife!’
‘The other one’s Grandpa George!’ Mr Bucket said, smiling happily. ‘The slightly bigger one there crawling around. He’s my wife’s father.’
‘That’s right! He’s my father!’ wailed Mrs Bucket. ‘And where’s Georgina, my old mother? She’s vanished! She’s nowhere, Mr Wonka! She’s absolutely nowhere! I saw her getting smaller and smaller and in the end she got so small she just disappeared into thin air! What I want to know is where’s she gone to! And how in the world are we going to get her back!’
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ said Mr Wonka, coming up close and raising both hands for silence. ‘Please, I beg you, do not ruffle yourselves! There’s nothing to worry about . . .’
‘You call it nothing!’ cried poor Mrs Bucket. ‘When my old mother’s gone down the drain and my father’s a howling baby . . .’
‘A lovely baby,’ said Mr Wonka.
‘I quite agree,’ said Mr Bucket.
‘What about my Josie?’ cried Grandpa Joe.
‘What about her?’ said Mr Wonka.
‘Well . . .’
‘A great improvement, sir,’ said Mr Wonka, ‘don’t you agree?’