#relationship breakdown

Ça coûte bonbon, she had jokingly told Willy when he first brought up the idea of the factory, while they were still in the cosy little apartment above the shop on Cherry Street. While they were growing apace, flush with success, but still a small business: Madeleine had not been able to imagine how they would raise the capital for such an endeavour. Especially when, in true Willy fashion, he insisted not just on a factory but the biggest factory in the world, fifty times as big as any other.

Typical Willy; not satisfied with anything less than being the biggest, brightest, best. He grinned, laughed, flashed those perfect white teeth and showed the world the image of a young genius who had been touched by the wand of destiny. It was only Madeleine who, behind closed doors, saw the moments when certainty failed and doubt crept in. The nights when he lay awake, haunted even now by the father he has not seen in years but whose memory drove him ever further on to prove, against all possible doubt, that he was a success.

The biggest chocolate factory in the world. Taken at face value, it was absurd. Better, more sensible, surely, to start small and work their way up in a managed, sustainable way.

But it was Willy’s dream and Madeleine knew, just as she had when he was sleeping on her sofa and peddling chocolate across London, that he had everything within him he needed for success, if he was just given the opportunity. So while Willy poured everything he had into his own awe-inspiring brand of confectionary alchemy, Madeleine sat up at night reading books on business accounting, investment, managing corporate loans. She set up meetings with banks and private investors, lugging cases filled with candy and business plans across the country, and she sold that dream to anyone who would listen.

Vouloir c'est pouvoir. It became her mantra. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Willy was a genius, already garnering international attention in the confectionery world, and Madeleine flattered herself that the business plans she’d pulled together were pretty damn good too, but it was also the right moment to try. The economy at the back end of the 80s, after a decade of volatility, was booming again: lenders were optimistic, unemployment was low, normal people had money in their pockets for luxuries. It was the best time to invest in a growing candy business headed by an unmatched visionary.

It all happened so fast. The lenders said yes, the loans were eye-wateringly large but the interest rates were low, everyone had so much faith in Willy - they didn’t even have to put up much in the way of collateral relative to the amounts, just the Cherry Street shop and then a lien against the factory itself. Madeleine, aware in the midst of all the excitement that she was out of her depth, all but begged Willy to sit still long enough for them to comb through the contracts together, but he was too giddy to care about anything as mundane as paperwork.

“I trust you, Maddy!” he kept saying, more concerned with drawing up plans for the factory with the architects and engineers; often infuriating them with his ideas that should not have worked but somehow did. “You know more about it than me, anyway. It will be fine. We’re going to make way more money than we’ve had to borrow, right?”

And Madeleine had to admit there was no reason to think that was not true.

They laid the first foundation stone together in the autumn of 1989, as delighted with it as any other couple might have been with a positive pregnancy test. Indeed, it felt like the factory was their child: Madeleine had certainly laboured to bring it about. Six months later, Willy cut the ribbon to open the completed factory, and that very night asked Madeleine to marry him.

They were the king and queen of candy - they were a team; Willy the face of his wild and wonderful creations, Madeleine the face of the business side - they were invincible.

**

Oh, God, they were not invincible. Not even close.

**

When the economy began to take a downturn, Madeleine was not initially worried. Candy was one of the most affordable luxuries; even when money was tight, most people could still find the spare change for a bar of chocolate or a bag of sweets. Besides, Wonka Candies was now a wholesaler, not a retailer; as long as their partners kept placing orders, the factory prospered.

Even so, ever cautious with money, and aware that there was a lot of money on the line, Madeleine made a point of bringing in more accounts, more clients, and most importantly more prestigious clients. Willy made candy for the love of making candy, but even he was proud as punch when they finally achieved the vision Madeleine had had in London years before: a display of Wonka candy in the window of Fortnum & Mason. Target the audience with money, was Madeleine’s reasoning, and they would be insulated if the economy continued to spiral downwards.

It turned out to be a smart decision. Before they had even reached the second anniversary of the factory opening, the country was officially in recession. Interest rates spiked sharply, and Madeleine almost cried when she saw the jump, month on month, of the loan repayments. They could afford it, but it seriously curtailed their floating cash - which, in turn, limited Willy’s ability to invest in technology for the factory for new products.

“But I need this,” Willy protested as they stood in Madeleine’s office, looking over plans he had drawn up for new machinery, and pages of complex formulas that Madeleine could not begin to follow, all spread across her desk. “It’s for my latest idea - you ought to like this, it’s economically appropriate--” said with finger quotes, “--I’m calling them Everlasting Gobstoppers. For kids who don’t get a lot of pocket money anymore, they can buy one and it will last forever. Well, pretty much forever.”

Madeleine hated that her first reaction was to think that was a terrible financial decision. She  pushed the thought away, guilt clenching her stomach, knowing how many children would be ecstatic to have candy that would never run out. What was this job doing to her?

“It’s a great idea, I just…” Madeleine shuffled through the papers until she found the estimates Willy had drawn up for the materials he’d need. She ran a finger down the column of figures and bit her lip. God, she felt like a monster, but if theoretically they’d only sell one unit per customer on this outlay… and if the target customer was kids without much money, price per unit would be low… And would any of their accounts even take a one-and-done product like that? Madeleine quickly ran through the mental maths and her heart sank. “I don’t think we can afford the outlay, not right now.”

Willy stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “But we have loads of money. Didn’t we make record sales last month?”

“Record sales, yes,” Madeleine admitted. “But not record net profit. The loan repayments keep going up, and I’m nervous about some of the smaller accounts potentially pulling out if the economy doesn’t pick up. Then there’s payroll - we’ll have to put wages up again, inflation is going mad: I think it’s at nearly seven percent now. That’s going to affect our cost prices, too; we’re losing margin already on at least half of our products, and that won’t change until we renew our contracts at the end of the financial half. If you came to the sales meetings,” she couldn’t help adding, “You’d know all this.”

It was a petty jab and Madeleine regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth, especially when Willy flinched, visibly hurt.

“I’m working too, you know,” he retorted. “These prestigious accounts you were so eager to get are being pretty damn demanding about how many new products they want each month. Then they all want different new products, so they can outdo each other.”

It was on the tip of Madeleine’s tongue to point out that, with the biggest chocolate factory in the world, they should be equal to fulfilling those demands - but then she looked at Willy properly. Looked at him and really saw him, for what felt like the first time in weeks. Saw that his skin, always pale, was now chalky; his eyes sunken and shadowed; his mouth turned down into a frown rather than his usual smile; the lines forming between his brows that hadn’t been there before.

“You should have told me it was getting too much,” she said instead, reaching for his hand; a gloved hand, he’d taken to wearing those latex gloves almost constantly, but she hoped he could still feel the warmth of her hand through the material. “I’ll call them tomorrow, see if I can renegotiate the contracts.”

“No,” Willy said quickly. He pulled away from her hand, and Madeleine had to restrain herself from snatching him back. “No, I--I can do it. I can. It’s what I do, isn’t it? I just -- I don’t have time to come to meetings, okay? That’s what I need you for.”

“Okay.” Madeleine looked down at her hand and flexed it, still fighting the urge to grab at Willy again. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have said that. I know how hard you work. Look, let’s… let’s clear this away for now. We can’t do anything else tonight anyway. I’ll make dinner, what do you want?”

But Willy just shook his head. “I’ll keep working for a while. I want to run some more tests; I’m trying a new flavour of Wonka bar, something with fudge and marshmallows, but it’s taking some time to get right.”

“Oh -- okay, I’ll wait for you, then.”

“No, don’t, I could be a while. Just leave me a plate or something.”

“Willy--”

“What do you want, Madeleine?” Willy burst out. He spread his hands out, inviting a response that Madeleine did not feel able to give. “Do you want me to fulfil these contracts or not? If they’re that important then, yeah, I need to keep working! Unless you have another chocolatier hidden up your sleeves?”

Madeleine’s chest clenched; her pulse raced; she tasted static electricity in the back of her mouth. Willy had never, never, spoken to her like that before. They had disagreed, yes, of course, even had their spats - but she’d never known him be so… sarcastic, so venomous.

“But… what about the team you put together, the additional designers?”

Willy sighed heavily. HIs arms dropped back to his sides and he shook his head. “They’re doing the basic stuff; alternate flavours, things like that. I don’t… I don’t like them doing the big things. It’s mine. What if they leave, and take their recipes with them, ‘cause they’re the ones who came up with them? I can’t have that. It’s Wonka Candies. It’s mine.”

They stared at each other in silence; both aware, perhaps, that they had gone too far and not sure how to find their way back to the right side of the line.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Madeleine again; she didn’t know what else to say. If it was one of their usual spats, she would sweet-talk him back into a good mood, or tease him until he admitted he was overreacting. Now, though, he wasn’t overreacting, and Madeleine didn’t know how to surmount the problem.

Willy made a little gesture; half shrug, half nod. “It’s--” he sighed. “I need to get back to work.”