2 Mr Willy Wonka’s Factory
In the evenings, after he had finished his supper of watery¹ cabbage soup, Charlie always
went into the room of his four grandparents to listen to their stories, and then afterwards
to say good night.
Every one of these old people was over ninety. They were as shrivelled as prunes², and
as bony as skeletons³, and throughout the day, until Charlie made his appearance, they
lay huddled⁴ in their one bed, two at either end, with nightcaps on to keep their heads
warm, dozing⁵ the time away with nothing to do. But as soon as they heard the door
opening, and heard Charlie’s voice saying, ‘Good evening, Grandpa Joe and Grandma
Josephine, and Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina,’ then all four of them would
suddenly sit up, and their old wrinkled⁶ faces would light up with smiles of pleasure –
and the talking would begin. For they loved this little boy. He was the only bright thing
in their lives, and his evening visits were something that they looked forward to all day
long. Often, Charlie’s mother and father would come in as well, and stand by the door,
listening to the stories that the old people told; and thus, for perhaps half an hour every
night, this room would become a happy place, and the whole family would forget that it
was hungry and poor.
One evening, when Charlie went in to see his grandparents, he said to them, ‘Is it
really true that Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is the biggest in the world?’
‘True?’ cried all four of them at once. ‘Of course it’s true! Good heavens, didn’t you
know that? It’s about fifty times as big as any other!’
‘And is Mr Willy Wonka really the cleverest chocolate maker⁷ in the world?’
‘My dear boy,’ said Grandpa Joe, raising himself up a little higher on his pillow, ‘Mr

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