Title: Lies in Ashes
By: Amanda
Feedback: sweety167yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing that sprang from the mind of Stephen Sondheim et all. And I make no profit.
Spoilers: Movie
Continuity: Prequel
Summary: From the beginning: As Mrs. Lovett lived it. (Prequel)
Completed: February 23-25, 2008
Notes: I've been a Sweeney fan long before Johnny picked the razors, but it was Helena that inspired me to pick up my pen.
Written in the movieverse, but a keen eye should catch some nods to Broadway and In Concert.

PART ONE

If it hadn't been for the baby's wailing, I never would have seen it. So much for the better maybe. But life deals you what it must. Life teaches you what it must. Can't go around forever with your head in the clouds and no concept of what's real, and nasty. I'd say Mrs. Barker taught me that. Showed me that.

The baby had been crying for what seemed like hours, and Albert didn't lose one wink of sleep. But I couldn't go on ignoring it. Truth be told, I wasn't sleeping much in those few months when Benjamin Barker was shipped off. Seemed like something was missing it did. Something was wrong.

I slipped from bed – not that Albert would have noticed – and made my way to the room upstairs. I thought it was only a heap of waste. Someone's discarded clothes or some nonsense; people were always tossing trash out there on the stairs. That is what I thought, until I saw those golden curls peeking out.

Lucy. Mrs. Lucy Barker. Rumbled at the bottom of the steps as little Johanna cried from the top.

I sighed. For all I knew she was dead. Taken a nasty slip or something. And I'd seen Beadle Bamford poking around earlier. But I've never been one to go poking around in other people's business myself. Didn't think much of it at the time. But looking back, well…
"Mrs. Barker," I nudged her with my slippered foot.

When she moved the stench of gin waved up off of her. As if someone had soaked her in it. And from the gargled moan of protest, I'd say she managed to ingest some too. Poor thing had no head for the stuff.

"Oh lordy me," I crouched down to help her up, "Best get you inside before you catch your death." That's when I saw it, dress all torn and spotty. You see some of the women around like that, lurking in darkened corners. I sighed, "You really do trust men too easily Mrs. Barker." I put her arm around my shoulders and helped her up the stairs. Not such an easy feat without co-operation.

I eased her onto the small settee in the corner, where she curled up again into a smaller, tighter ball. She's taken to living up here in the shop once Mr. Barker was taken – only place that was paid up I'd imagine. Familiar maybe too. Always felt closer to Mr. B up here, even when he wasn't about. This was his.

It was obvious Lucy would be of no use to me at that moment, so I set out to do what I had come up to do; tend to the baby. After so many hours of objection little Johanna had given up. So much like her mother. Her cheeks were flushed a gentle pink and her hair so blonde it was almost white. A living cherub in the cradle she was. Precious thing.

I wrapped her in one of her woollen blankets and cradled her little body to my chest. I never had children myself, seemed the good lord didn't see it fit to bless me with them, but I have tended to a few in my years. Even held Johanna before – in a moment of blissful chaos Mr. Barker had handed her over to me when she was born. So small, so warm and so trusting. Blessed little baby.

Looking around the room, I couldn't see one drop to help me out. I was sure there was still some milk down in my shop that I could heat up for the child. She had to be starved.

"I'm just gonna take Johanna down for a bit to eat, dearie," I told the unmoving lump of Lucy, but received no reply. I fear she may have started to go simple then. Didn't seem to care much what I did. Or where I took her child. Pity.

I managed to start feeding the babe before Albert came waddling out from bed.

"What's all this?" he squinted at me. What a sight; me holding a baby on my lap with a saucer of warmed milk nestled into one of the booths. I was carefully spooning the liquid into her greedy mouth. Went to bed childless and awoke to a baby.

"Mrs. Barker had a run of fright last night," I looked up toward the barbershop.

He grunted, scratching at his backside, "Where's breakfast?"

"After I finish tending to Johanna," I bounced my knee slightly; Albert always was horrible with names, "I'll see to you."

"Hmm," he grumbled, "just be sure you take it back up to its mother."

"Right," I gave him a toothy grin. Maybe Albert was the reason the good lord never blessed me with a child.

I was sure to burn his eggs later.

It was the oddest thing when I went back upstairs after breakfast with Johanna; the place was empty. Not a sign of Lucy. I wasn't sure if that was good news or not. Could go either way really. Where would a mother run off to without their child?

I put the baby back in her cradle, but didn't have the heart to leave her by her lonesome; it was still early, and a Sunday. No one ever comes by the shop until after service, and it's only ale they're after then anyway. No reason to rush myself.

Should have seen the place though, covered in dried out and dying flowers. Mounds of them. And the stench was overbearing. Seemed Judge Turpin didn't know how to keep his appreciation secret if the few cards were anything to go by. Pity though, it could have been the best thing for a husband-less mother. Practical at least.

But now, who knew how the little family would end up. From the condition I'd found Lucy in, I'd say the Judge was done courting her - but that was gossip. The world wouldn't look too kindly on her now. Poor thing. What's a woman to do alone with a baby? Not much hope for her really.

I wondered what Albert would think letting them stay on upstairs. Surely a pretty thing like Lucy could be useful around – once she shook off the shock of course. And it'd be nice to have a child around, watch her grow. We could feel like a real family. And still be close to Mr. Barker. They could, of course.

I ment to mention that later after a good, hearty meal. He was always more agreeable once he was full.

Oh, and the room was still very much Mr. Barker's. Tools of his trade covered every surface, even under those dying flowers. You could almost expect him to come waltzing through the door. But that wasn't about to happen anytime soon. It would have been a treat though, to have him grace the doorway again. Like the old days, the bright days.

But surely, those days had gone now.

Seemed more likely to have ghost move in than to have Mr. Barker home.

And what of Mrs. Barker? What if she had fled? Gone forever. Leaving poor Johanna here alone. What would become of the girl? Her auntie Nellie would take care of her. Sure I would. Been happy to. Least I could do for the Barkers really.

For Benjamin.

Seemed silly to think of him as Mr. Barker if I was going to be tending to his precious child then. Practically family we would be.

I supposed that put me in charge of all his affairs; would have to take care of his things. Care for them as if they were my own. Treasure them I would.

And that's when I spied it, the big oak box. Benjamin's most prized procession, beyond Johanna of course, his straight razors. Half covered by Lucy's flowers as if they were forgotten. Oh, but who could forget such beauty? I opened the lid – six shinning silver blades sparkled back at me. As if I'd discovered some hidden treasures. And I had. Rediscovered them as it were.

They all lay at the ready, waiting their master's return. Their master's touch.

Far as I knew, Benjamin never let anyone touch his razors. They were always far too sharp and far too polished for inexperienced hands. I reached to feel the cool metal of one of the carved handles, and the shop door swung open. I jumped so high I nearly dropped the case.

It was only the boy, Danny. A small lad Benjamin had hired to help him out around the shop. Not that he needed the help really. I think he just saw someone who needed the job. Sweet man Benjamin was. But I hadn't seen the child around. Curious.

The boy's eyes were wide and wild. "Is it true then?" his eyes darted around the room, and I barely had an idea what he was so worked up about. "Mr. Barker! Was he really sent away?" the boy was so wiry and jumpy, but something about him told me he was always thinking, planning, "Botany Bay and everything?"

I gave him a sad smile and nodded my head; "I'm afraid so dearie."

He nodded, his eyes doing another sweep of the room before landing on the razors. "Guess I won't be getting' my shilling this month then…"

I snapped the lid shut, blocking them from his greedy eyes. That was his game then! I'd have none of it.

"We'll see to your troubles," I reached for my change purse, mostly empty. Only a shilling or two, a few pence and some toffees. I knew there was no way he made a shilling off of Mr. Barker, but I figured he wasn't about to make anymore from the barbershop either, so I handed him one of the coins.

"Thank you ma'am, a real Christian you are," he rubbed the coin between his fingers.

"You best be off then, eh?" I tried the politest way I could think of to kick him out. Didn't want anyone poking about as if they were picking over a corpse. Benjamin may have been gone from England, but he wasn't dead. Never in my mind would he be.

Danny nodded, but held such a look in his eye. That boy would grow up to be trouble, you could just see it.

Oh, but his visit was useful. Told me I had to go about caring for Mr. Barker's things sooner rather than later. Starting with those razors.

I could have holed them away in the bake house, or somewhere in the pie shop. But truth be told, I didn't trust Albert not to find them. And the moment he did, he'd sell them. A pretty penny's all he'd see.

No. It would be best to keep them where they belonged. In the room upstairs. And no one would go looking for them where they belonged. People don't think like that, not around here. But the question was where… I remembered the loose floorboard by the window. Albert never would get around to fixing it, and I could hide a world of treasures under there. If the need ever came.

"A secret between you and I Johanna," I smiled over at the napping infant as I wrapped the heavy oak box in one of the barber cloths. I tucked it away as safely as I had the baby in her crib. And no one would be the wiser. There they could wait for their master to return.

And in all that time there was no sign of Mrs. Barker.

An uneasy feeling crept up the pit of my stomach. Was I to go after her too? Her being one of Mr. Barker's treasure. Or maybe now, one of his ends to be tied.

Foolishness.

I had more important things to tend to.

There I was in the shop; Baby resting on my hip as I puttered around. I won't deny it felt like the most natural thing in the world, even if the sweet child wasn't my own. She was as good as now. Far as I saw it.

It made me normal to have a child.

It warmed my heart to see the way customers would smile at me with child too. Brightened up the whole shop it did. Until Mrs. Mooney came in that was.

"Ah, what a sweet child," she crooked a long finger toward the child's chin, "Looks so much like the Barker's baby." She turned her stern eyes on me.

Seemed to turn everyone's eyes on me.

"She is," I kept my head held high, no reason to bend down to the silly woman's judgement. "Mrs. Barker took off with a fever, and I'm tending to the girl until she's well." So easy it was, to come up with white lies to cover the many misdeeds making a muck around.

"Oh, did she then," Mrs. Mooney replied with her wicked smile. Good for nothing but gossip and dried out pies she was. "Let's hope good luck offers its fortune," with a curt nod of her head, she and her kind left. Mindless busybodies! And I'd have no use for any of them.

But it did raise questions. How would I go about explaining Johanna? Or Lucy, if she returned. And what would I tell Johanna of her parentage, when the time came? So many questions, and so quickly they came.

The thoughts must have plagued me; the next thing I remembered hours had passed.

"Nellie!" Albert's strong voice had stung me.

I stared back at him with wide eyes, "Sorry luv, my mind must have gotten away from me."

He made the gravely sound of disappointment in the back of his throat, over the years of marriage I'd grown accustomed to it, almost expected it. "What's that doing here?" he pointed to the sack of flour in the corner. It looked as if I had rested Johanna down there for her nap. She looked so content there, nestled between the sacks of flour. Such a beautiful sight.

"What's that doing down here?" Albert sneered. "I told you I didn't want it down here."

I kept myself busy at the counter to avoid his eyes; "Mrs. Barker's still…not well."

He shrugged, "Women's problems." The all encompassing malady infecting the world, according to Albert. But he didn't know a drop of what we suffered. Nor what we lived with. He never gave a thought as to what it ment to be a woman.

"Take it up to its mother," he instructed again.

"Lucy's not up there," I said quietly, chancing a sideways glance at my husband, gauging his reaction, "Can't leave a child alone."

"Can't have it down here. It's cursed!" He looked at Johanna as if she were vermin. Though, I never say him look at a rat like that. He almost seemed to fear the tiny being.

I rushed to the child's defence, scooping her up in my arms, "How could you say such a thing? She's a beautiful baby."

"Father set off. Mother gone ill. I'd say that's a curse. That girl'll bring nothing but ill will to the home she darkens. Mark my words. And I refuse to have her here."

"I refuse to leave her alone," It was the first time I ever refused my husband.

"Fine," he turned, calm as could be, "Upstairs with the both of you."

"Albert?" a nervous laugh broke from between my lips. Could he send me away as easy as all that?

"Go Nellie. Sleep with your shadows."

And off he went to bed.

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