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.
'Madam,' said Mr Wonka, 'let us do one thing at a time…'
'I forbid you to give her that beastly Wonka-Vite!' said Mrs Bucket. 'You'll turn her into a Minus again just as sure as I'm standing here!'
'I don't want to be a Minus!' croaked Grandma Georgina. 'If I ever have to go back to that beastly Minusland again, the Gnoolies will knickle me!'
'Fear not!' said Mr Wonka. 'This time I myself will supervise the giving of the medicine. I shall personally see to it that you get the correct dosage. But listen very carefully now! I cannot work out how many pills to give you until I know exactly how old you are! That's obvious, isn't it?'
'It is not obvious at all,' said Mrs Bucket. 'Why can't you give her one pill at a time and play it safe?'
'Impossible, madam. In very serious cases such as this one, Wonka-Vite doesn't work at all when given in small doses. You've got to throw everything at her in one go. You've got to hit her with it hard. A single pill wouldn't even begin to shift her. She's too far gone for that. It's all or nothing.'
'No,' said Mrs Bucket firmly.
'Yes,' said Mr Wonka. 'Dear lady, please listen to me. If you have a very severe headache and you need three aspirins to cure it, it's no good taking only one at a time and waiting four hours between each. You'll never cure yourself that way. You've got to gulp them all down in one go. It's the same with Wonka-Vite. May I proceed?'
'Oh, all right, I suppose you'll have to,' said Mrs Bucket.
'Good,' said Mr Wonka, giving a little jump and twirling his feet in the air. 'Now then, how old are you, my dear Grandma Georgina?'
'I don't know,' she croaked. 'I lost count of that years and years ago.'
'Don't you have any idea?' said Mr Wonka.
'Of course I don't,' gibbered the old woman. 'Nor would you if you were as old as I am.'
'Think!' said Mr Wonka. 'You've got to think!'
The tiny old wrinkled brown walnut face wrinkled itself up more than ever. The others stood waiting. The Oompa-Loompas, enthralled by the sight of this ancient object, were all edging closer and closer to the bed. The two babies slept on.
'Are you, for example, a hundred?' said Mr Wonka. 'Or a hundred and ten? Or a hundred and twenty?'
'It's no good,' she croaked. 'I never did have a head for numbers.'
'This is a catastrophe!' cried Mr Wonka. 'If you can't tell me how old you are, I can't help you! I dare not risk an overdose!'
Gloom settled upon the entire company, including for once Mr Wonka himself. 'You've messed it up good and proper this time, haven't you?' said Mrs Bucket.
'Grandma,' Charlie said, moving forward to the bed. 'Listen, Grandma. Don't worry about exactly how old you might be. Try to think of a happening instead… think of something that happened to you… anything you like… as far back as you can… it may help us…'
'Lots of things happened to me, Charlie… so many many things happened to me…'
'But can you remember any of them, Grandma?'
'Oh, I don't know, my darling… I suppose I could remember one or two if I thought hard enough…'
'Good, Grandma, good!' said Charlie eagerly. 'Now what is the very earliest thing you can remember in your whole life?'
'Oh, my dear boy, that really would be going back a few years, wouldn't it?'
'When you were little, Grandma, like me. Can't you remember anything you did when you were little?'
The tiny sunken black eyes glimmered faintly and a sort of smile touched the corners of the almost invisible little slit of a mouth. 'There was a ship,' she said. 'I can remember a ship… I couldn't ever forget that ship…'
'Go on, Grandma! A ship! What sort of a ship? Did you sail on her?' 'Of course I sailed on her, my darling… we all sailed on her…' 'Where from? Where to?' Charlie went on eagerly.
'Oh no, I couldn't tell you that… I was just a tiny little girl…' She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Charlie watched her, waiting for something more. Everybody waited. No one moved.
'… It had a lovely name, that ship… there was something beautiful… something so beautiful about that name… but of course I couldn't possibly remember it…'
Charlie, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly jumped up. His face was shining with excitement. 'If I said the name, Grandma, would you remember it then?'
'I might, Charlie… yes… I think I might…' 'THE MAYFLOWER!' cried Charlie.
The old woman's head jerked up off the pillow. 'That's it!' she croaked. 'You've got it, Charlie! The Mayflower… Such a lovely name…'
'Grandpa!' Charlie called out, dancing with excitement. 'What year did the Mayflower sail for America?'
'The Mayflower sailed out of Plymouth Harbour on September the sixth, sixteen hundred and twenty,' said Grandpa Joe.
'Plymouth…' croaked the old woman. 'That rings a bell, too… Yes, it might easily have been Plymouth…'
'Sixteen hundred and twenty!' cried Charlie. 'Oh, my heavens above! That means you're… you do it, Grandpa!'
'Well now,' said Grandpa Joe. 'Take sixteen hundred and twenty away from nineteen hundred and seventy- two… that leaves… don't rush me now, Charlie… That leaves three hundred… and… and fifty-two.'
'Jumping jackrabbits!' yelled Mr Bucket. 'She's three hundred and fifty-two years old!'
'She's more,' said Charlie. 'How old did you say you were, Grandma, when you sailed on the Mayflower? Were you about eight?'
'I think I was even younger than that, my darling… I was only a bitty little girl… probably no more than six…'
'Then she's three hundred and fifty-eight!' gasped Charlie.
'That's Vita-Wonk for you,' said Mr Wonka proudly. 'I told you it was powerful stuff
'Three hundred and fifty-eight!' said Mr Bucket. 'It's unbelievable!'
'Just imagine the things she must have seen in her lifetime!' said Grandpa Joe.
'My poor old mother!' wailed Mrs Bucket. 'What on earth…'
'Patience, dear lady,' said Mr Wonka. 'Now comes the interesting part. Bring on the Wonka-Vite!'
An Oompa-Loompa ran forward with a large bottle and gave it to Mr Wonka. He put it on the bed. 'How young does she want to be?' he asked.
'Seventy-eight,' said Mrs Bucket firmly. 'Exactly where she was before all this nonsense started!'
