He lay among the dirt, his only friends were the disease-ridden rats. His hair a dark shade of copper with small stubs of rubble scattered across the roots. His eyes, once an azure blue, rich with childish laughter and life, now were smudged a faded greyish purple around the rim, they drooped at the edges, the whites tinted with bloodshot veins. A violet bruise splattered across his left cheek and scars sketched across his knuckles. Wearing nothing but a faded-out white collared shirt and grey tattered trousers.
His mother had neglected him. She couldn't cope with a child, couldn't take the hassle. She wasn't fit to be a mother, even she knew that. She would drink, take funny things from a bottle, sing...loudly. She would burst out the front door, hair tousled and stained with sweat. She'd belt out at the top of her voice, singing horrifically out of tune, the notes cracking at the strain against her throat. Bottles would be thrown at the wall, annoyed neighbours shouting at her to shut up, go back inside, let them get some shut eye.
It had been a week since he had escaped from the kitchen window. He hadn't eaten much, not much at all. He drank from the water that came through the gutter. At the age of five, the relevance of germs and whatnot don't come across as important. God knows what it was doing to his stomach. Lying on his back, he rubbed his eyes with his fists scrunched into knots. A small grey rat scurried along the sewer path but the boy caught it just in time before it continued down into the sewer.
"Hello li'il mousey. I'm Jack," He clasped his small chubby fingers tight around the rat and laid it in his left palm, poking it's nose with his finger, "Charlie. Do you like that name? I do. You're my friend now, and you can sleep in my hat here."
Jack reached down into his pocket and pulled out a flat brown cap and tucked the small rat inside.
"Na'night, Charlie."
The little boy held the cap to his chest and lay against the wall, his head resting on a crate. He glared up at the night sky in awe, counting the stars, so many.
"1,2, …..3, 4, 5... wot comes after five, Charlie?"
He stares down at the rat, it's small beady black eyes looked up helpless. Jack shook his head and laid back down on the crate, his eyes drifting shut at the sound of footsteps.
"Cor blimey luv, whataya doin' down there? Catch a cold yer will!"
Jack's eyes flickered up slowly before closing again. The footsteps drew closer and he took a peep from beneath his eyelids. The person who had spoke to him was throwing a sack into one of the crates behind him.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, attempting to fake sleep so the woman would leave. Instead, she tucked her hands beneath his armpits and lifted him up.
"Argh! Charlie!" Jack whaled his arms around and reached his arm back towards the ground where his cap lay.
"Charlie? Oh heavens, there's a rat in yer hat! C'mere you lil blighter," The woman started stamping around.
"Don't hurt him, ma'am! He's my friend."
"Friend? It's a rat, luv, carries all sorta germs, not good ter keep around," and with that, the woman targeted the rat and trod hard on it. Jack was crestfallen as he stared down at the limp tail poking out from under her large buckled boot.
"Ma'am?" He whispered to the woman holding him.
"C'mon, dear, just a rat. Now then, what are yer doin' out 'ere?"
"I like it out here."
"But it's cold! Can't have you sleepin' out 'ere, where are yer parents? They'll be worried."
"My Ma doesn't look after me very well. And I don't know where Pa is. He's been gone for a very long time. Ma said he's pushing up daises, but I don't know what that means. Has he gone away for a new job? A job as a farmer? I want to be a farmer some day."
The woman sighed with a look of pity on her face, she then straightened up and held Jack out at arms length.
"Yer know wot? I think you should stay with me."
Jack stared at her, unaware of what to say or feel.
"Okay," he squeaked out.
She smiles, to Jack and to herself. She holds the boy against her chest and he glares down at the floor behind her shoulder as she walks off. The rat lay sprawled on the floor, it's tail broken and blood around it's head. Jack sticks his thumb in his mouth and tries to think of something else, something nice. Before he knows it, the woman has taken him into a shop. The door shuts behind them with a ting of the bell. She sits him down on the workbench and for the first time he is able to look at her. The woman has an extremely white face, ghost-like. Maybe she is a ghost, he thinks to himself. Her auburn brown hair is tied up scrawly on the top of her head, tight curls springing out at all directions. Her black dress fit rather tight, squeezing into her stomach, pushing out half her chest.
"Now then, luv, what's yer name?"
"Jack Raftery."
"That's a lovely name. If I were ever to 'ave had a son, I woulda called him Jack, yer know."
Jack slowly nodded his head, smiling a little, pretending he understood what she was talking about. His legs dangled down and he waggled them back and forth.
"So then, I'm Mrs Lovett. Call me whatever yer like. I'll just go fetch yer a blanket, yer must be freezing!"
He nodded again and the woman disappeared into a room behind him. He breathed in, inhaling the smell of pastry, it felt like the best thing ever. Jack placed his hands down on the counter and gasped when he felt a sharp nick at his hand.
"Ouch!" He muttered as he inspected his hand, blood was oozing out of the cut between his thumb and index finger, the skin grating.
"Jack, are yer okay? Thought I heard somethin'.." Mrs Lovett mumbled as she came back from the room.
"Oh shoot! Stupid Nellie, leaving yer knife on the table where there's a bloomin' child," She uttered to herself.
"Nellie."
"Yes, luv?"
"It's a pretty name.."
"Yes, yes, luv, I think the blood's getting to yer head," She rolled her brown eyes, "Lemme find something for tha' cut of yours."
She scurried away again and rummaged around in a cupboard. She leant down, searching every shelf. A heavy thump came from overhead and Jack looked up, his lips sitting in a confused frown.
"That'll just be the neighbours, rowdy buggers they are. Don't mind them," She mumbled as she tossed aside various items.
"Aha! Found me cloths," Mrs Lovett walked back over to where Jack sat, grinning widely, she took his hand and wrapped the cloth tightly around his fingers. She tucked the remaining material underneath and kissed his hand.
"All better," Jack smiled up at her. Mrs Lovett beamed back at him, and she could feel a sudden flush of maternal comfort, comfort which she had wanted to feel for so long. They could hear footsteps padding outside, Mrs Lovett sighed, a slight hint of concern could be seen in her pasty face. The door opened and a tall, troubled looking man stood in the doorway. His mouth curled and his eyes narrowed.
"What is that?"