This started life as a tribute to my beta, RobinRocks, for doing the Livejournal 5 Nevers with the character of Sweeny Todd. The fic then morphed into 6 Nevers.
I intended to post this fic yesterday in tribute to the UK release of Sweeney Todd on DVD. FFNet had other ideas...damn 'glitch'.
Sing a Song of Sixpence
Six things that never happened to Mrs Lovett
I.
She never really missed Mr Lovett when he died, the poor dear, but it did get awfully lonely. Customers were rare and even when they dared to enter her musty shop, they left pretty quick.
Still, hard times came and went. Her looks just went. She cooked rats, dogs and the odd cat (when she could catch them). Occasionally she rented out the room above her shop to travellers and sailors.
She never told them its history.
Sometimes she felt guilty about throwing out the tattered remains of the Barker family. But what could you do? The poor girl belonged in bedlam, the husband a convict god knows where. It was him what passed through her mind most often; the handsome, awe-inspiring, foolish man whom the Judge Turpin so envied.
Maybe the poor soul was still alive. Maybe he'd come and rent the room above her shop.
Mrs Lovett could feel nostalgic sometimes.
II.
"Now, love, you don't want to be doing that," Mrs Lovett grips Lucy's hands lightly around the bottle. Lucy averts her gaze to the floor. She does nothing but tremble since visiting the Judge's house.
It sickens Mrs Lovett's heart to think about it. She'd envied the girl, but she's a soft touch, truly. Men can be such despicable creatures.
"Give me the bottle, pet. Johanna'll wake up soon." Lucy isn't convinced but Mrs Lovett doesn't want the woman's death on her conscience if Mr Todd ever returns.
"Mr Todd... he'll be back, you see." Mrs Lovett, she doesn't really believe it. But the spark in Lucy's eyes is worth it. That is, until it fades into a stronger fear than before.
"The judge! The judge will... Benjamin..." Lucy fades into a whimpered muttering. Mrs Lovett sighs in frustration.
"Your Benjamin... when he comes back, you could leave London. Where no one will find you." Mrs Lovett doesn't like the idea but if it will quiet Lucy down, she'll say it. She gently pries the poison bottle away from the shaking fingers and tucks it into the folds of her skirt.
"There now," she coos. "Let's forget about the past for now, dear. How about a nice pie and we can take Johanna to Hyde Park?" Lucy nods distractedly while Mrs Lovett pats her shoulder, staring out of the large, slanting window. If Mr Todd ever does come back, she hopes this will improve his view of her.
III.
"Later on when it's dark, we'll take it to some secret place and bury it."
"Oh yeah. Of course we could do that."
And they do.
Looking as casual as you like; a couple on a late night stroll round a park on the city outskirts. The bags? Vegetables bought at the market that afternoon.
Mr Todd dug a hole beneath some bushes and Mrs Lovett sat on a nearby bench, keeping watch. When 'Signor Pirelli' was just an inconvenient memory, they sauntered home.
It occurred to Mrs Lovett some time later that the body could have been an overlooked resource. But that was alright. Mr Todd's business was picking up and with it, his reputation. Perhaps he would get another chance at revenge, after all. Her pie shop remained dusty and pest-ridden, her only income coming from the barber's tenancy.
She and Mr Todd were friends. Mrs Lovett liked to imagine they were married in all but a physical and lawful sense. If business remained good and Mr Todd finally put his demons to rest, perhaps they could move. Away from London.
To the sea.
IV.
She feels uneasy, holding Toby and ... no, she isn't lying to the boy. If she can help it, nothing will happen. She'll convince him and then Mr Todd will accept it.
Who is she fooling?
'Say if there were someone around... someone bad... only you didn't know it.'
She had known it, but it had never seemed to matter. Mr Todd was handsome, charming even, in his rough, troubled way. Toby is a lad too smart for his own good, she thinks, and Mrs Lovett doesn't want to choose. He's the son she never had and Mr Todd...
If she goes to the Beadle, this life will end. The business will be discovered. She'll be hanged or worse and she can't betray Mr Todd. Toby's wrong – the man is no liar. He's cold, he's murderous and perhaps, she'll admit, weak in the head. But he is Mr Todd; he is her love, her partner in crime, her tenant and her friend.
And Toby might as well be her son. So she has to try.
"Now Toby, love, listen to me," she says. Her eyes are wide and watery and Toby looks earnestly up at her. "I'm going to tell you a little story."
V.
Judge Turpin's body cracks wetly on the stones. Nose scrunched in distaste, Mrs Lovett avoids the twitching corpse and takes hold of the beggar-woman's arms. Lucy.
With desperate determination lending her strength, Mrs Lovett drags the body to the oven and opens the door. She has the head in the flames before she burns herself with a screech. Mr Todd, bless his soul, comes running at her cry.
"Get the Judge. I'll do that," he says and, with one reassuring glance that the head is unrecognisable, Mrs Lovett surrenders Lucy's body with a smile.
They laugh as they burn Turpin's body; a dance of victory and a celebration of truly living it.
VI.
Mr Todd's gaze remains almost as dead as it was, but there is some life in there. Some love for her and Toby. Mrs Todd née Lovett sits by her husband and son on the veranda every evening, smiling at the waves.
"Don't you miss London, sometimes?" Toby asks.
"Hush, love," Mrs Todd murmurs. Her mind is away in the clouds, above the gutters and sooty rooftops. Mr Todd pats her affectionately yet carefully on the knee.
Mrs Todd knows how different it could have been. All about choices and chance, it was.
Her fond smile widens as Mr Todd says,
"It's in the past, Toby."