Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest:
Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers:
Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest,
And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers!
William S. Gilbert
Underneath London, the gutters run red with blood. The blood of dozens of men, some rich, some poor, lawyers, curates dentists; all of their blood is mixed together. We don't pick favorites based on class. Everyone is treated exactly the same. The highest nobleman or the flea bitten urchin, it doesn't matter to us. We pride ourselves on our moral of equality, Mr. Todd and I.
Business has never been better and money comes in regularly. I've never been so well off in my entire life. Last week I was able to buy myself an entirely new wardrobe. New gowns made of real satin, fine whalebone corsets, delicate silk chemises, spider web thin stockings, with pretty little ribbons for garters, and taffeta petticoats that rustle like leaves every time I step. And hats, big, gorgeous hats with enough ribbons and lace to make the queen herself green with envy. I even managed to by myself a strand of freshwater pearls. Now, instead of looking like an impoverished widow, I could be mistaken for a high-class lady of society. I've ever turned the heads of a few gentlemen on the street.
A good lady would be satisfied with such a life. Yet I still find myself utterly sorrowful. For as long as Mr. Todd ignores me, I shall never be happy. I do all I can to make the wretch happy and still he won't even glance at me. It might as well be my blood there running in the sewers, for I feel as if Mr. Todd has torn out my heart. The poor man's mind has been destroyed by grief and revenge. I understand his pain. I too lost my own beloved spouse. But you'd think after all this time he'd manage to move on...and start a new life. I managed to do so, so why can't he? All I want is to love him and make him happy once more. Even if he drives me mad and never fully loves me back; I just want him to allow me to love him.
Every morning I go down to the shop and set up for the business day. Above me I hear him, pacing the floor insufferably. The man never seems to sleep. The sun shone through the sooty air and I opened the windows to let in the small bit of light. As I dusted off the countertop with a rag, Tobias came stumbling in sleepily.
"There you are lad." I smiled at him. "I was wonderin' if you'd sleep all day!"
"Sorry mum, I was awful tired. I 'ad a horrid time fallin' asleep last night." He said, and with a yawn began to take the chairs down off the tables.
"You should've told me Toby, I'd have given you some gin to 'elp you sleep."
"It wouldn't 'ave helped, mum." He told me, setting down the last chair.
I looked up at him curiously, "And why not?"
"I keep..." he began, shifting his feet nervously, "'avin nightmares, you see."
"Nightmares?" I asked, my brow furrowing worriedly, "About what, dear?"
"Bad people, doin' terrible bad things." He said in an almost whisper; his dear, young eyes wide with fear. I took in a gulp of air and returned to my cleaning.
"Who are these bad people, Toby?" I asked, scrubbing furiously at one spot on the counter.
"Oh..." he looked down at the floor, "Just people."
"All right, well what kind of bad things are these people doin'?" I persisted.
"Murders, mostly." He said. He had begun to move his finger around the table in a nervous circle. "There's always an awful lot of blood...the blood is what I remember the most."
Oh dear God, I thought, he knows. He's discovered what we've done. We're done for.
"Well," I set my rag down and walked over to where he stood by the table. I put my hand on his thin shoulder. "That's rather grim for a boy so young to be dreamin' of isn't it? Very morbid! Then again, boys do love gore and violence, don't they?"
He just looked up at me, with the same terrified look on his face. I bit my lip. Inside my stomach was a flutter with worry. This must be what it's like to be a mother and experience that horrible maternal worry I'd heard so much about. I couldn't have my own children, so when I took in Toby I'd looked upon him as a blessing. But now, with this gnawing, worrying in my stomach...I realized that perhaps I had taken on far too much than I could handle.
"Toby, listen..." I started, clearing my throat uncertainly. "You can tell your old Mrs. Lovett anything. Don't be afraid."
The fearful expression on his face lightened and he gave a little nod of understanding.
"Now go on, tell me about these nightmares. Tell me about the bad people."
"Well you see; in the dreams there's a bad man. And I think its Mr. To-"
"Mrs. Lovett!" Mr. Todd's loud shout rang down the stairs, abruptly interrupting Toby.
I exhaled sharply between clenched teeth and gave Toby an apologetic look. He turned away from me and continued to work on setting up the shop. I'll talk to him about it later, I told myself. Though I knew I wouldn't, I'd avoid the subject like the plague itself.
"Mrs. Lovett!" Mr. Todd screamed again.
"Bloody impatient bastard..." I muttered under my breath before responding to him with a cheery, "Coming, love!"
When I came into his parlor, he was standing, staring out the window as usual, but breathing heavily with anger like some fire-breathing monster. His pale hands were clutched tightly around his silver razors, which he now carried around with him like they were an extension of his hands. I worried he may slice his hand into shreds. Carefully, I walked towards him and touched his shoulder gently.
"What is it, dear?"
"Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Mr. Hawkins talking to Judge Turpin?" he spat, pointing out the window. I looked out and saw that sure enough, it was Mr. Hawkins, another barber, talking to the Judge.
"Yes that's him." I nodded.
"This can't be!" he hissed. "That damned Hawkins is stealing my most precious clientele!"
"Well, no offense Mr. T, but Judge Turpin made it quite clear that he'd never come back to your shop." I reminded him.
"I know, I know!" he snapped. "But I had plans to win him back...ways of wooing him towards my parlor, not Hawkins's!" Then he angrily spun from the window and hurled his razors across the floor. I jumped from the loud clatter they made. Mr. Todd slumped into the barber chair, staring up at the ceiling, his dark eyes blazing.
"It's all right love." I drew near to him, stroking his grey sleeve softly.
"I just...have to kill him." He sighed. "I will never rest until he's dead."
"I understand, dear. Your motives are undeniably clear." I nodded, moving my hand slowly to massage his shoulder and my heart leapt when he did not push it away.
"Once he's dead I can take back my little girl...my little Johanna." He said, looking off into space. A precious emotion seemed to pass through his eyes whenever he said her name. And for a moment, I saw the man he once was. "And we can raise her."
My eyes widened in excitement as my heart pounded harder. "We?" I asked, struggling to maintain my indifferent composure. Realizing what he'd said, he awkwardly looked at his shoes.
"Well, I suppose so. It's not as if I could raise a girl on my own. And look what wonders you've done for that boy. Besides, with you I wouldn't have to spare the expense of hiring a governess."
"Oh," I nodded, as my heart sunk dully into my stomach, "A governess, of course."
"After that, everything will be right the world. I can move on, start a new life."
"Perhaps...remarry?" I asked casually. I now found my hand moving on its own will to brush at his dark hair.
"I'd never thought of it." He shrugged.
"Oh surely you 'ave Mr. T! I know how lonely a man gets without a woman." I prodded. "And a man like you, successful, talented, handsome, deserves a good wife."
"I had a good wife already. But she was taken from me." He reminded me bitterly.
"Yes, but I mean a new one. I know you'll never feel the same love you did for Lucy about anyone else, but you could still find someone. There are many other women in London...smart, kind, beautiful women."
"Like you?" he asked, turning to me quickly. My hand dropped to my side limply.
"Me? Sir...I wasn't talkin' of meself..." I sputtered stupidly. I really hadn't been; for I'd never give myself such airs as smart or beautiful.
"Why not?" he inquired, looking at me seriously. "You're certainly all those things."
I swear I stopped breathing for a moment. He'd complimented me! It was so simple, but life could have ended there and I'd die a marvelously happy woman!
"You think so?" I asked quietly, smiling shyly.
"Of course." He said complacently, standing up from the chair. "I mean you're not the same kind of feminine, pink-cheeked, rosy beauty as the younger women are, but you have your own type. It's rather exquisite. A dark, aged beauty...like a red rose wilting and turning black."
"Oh, Mr. Todd!" I burst, unable to contain myself. "What a lovely thing to say to a lady!"
He looked at me strangely, startled at my sudden outburst. He did not respond, but simply proceeded to look heartily embarrassed about calling me beautiful. Turning his back on me quickly, he picked up the razors he'd thrown and wiped them on his sleeve. Smiling to myself still, I started to walk around the room, staring at everything, gazing out the big window.
"I got to thinkin' last night," I said to Mr. Todd, though he didn't seem to acknowledge me. "about makin' a special gravy for the Judge." He made a soft grunt to tell me he'd heard me, or at least pretended. So I continued, as I always did. "After all, he will be the prize of the menu. And bein' a political official and all…I suppose he deserve somethin' special, wouldn't you say Mr. T?"
"Once I'm finished with him, you may do anything you please, Mrs. Lovett." He murmured.
"Perhaps I'll look into recipes…rosemary might be nice, or maybe some thyme. Then again you can't go wrong with a nice coriander. Oh, well I suppose it'll just come to me eventually." I shrugged and turned to look at him. He still remained with his back turned to me, slowly polishing those blasted razors. I sighed irritably and cleared my throat.
"Mr. T, how about you take the day off today? It's supposed to right nice outside. And I think you owe yourself a little break."
Before he could even turn to answer me, the bell rang on the door and in walked a gentleman. He was dressed quite nicely, dark suit, silk hat, shiny black shoes. I guessed he was a lawyer. Lawyer is awful strong, it always comes back up after a while, I thought to myself.
"Mr. Todd, I presume?" he asked.
"Yes, what may I do for you today sir?" Mr. Todd asked in his well-rehearsed professional voice.
"I'd like my hair trimmed please." He said. Mr. Todd's face strained with anxiety and tightened his grip on the razor.
"Anything else, sir?" he asked eagerly.
"No that should do it." The man said.
I saw this as a wonderful opportunity to step in. Cordially, I placed my hand on the man's elbow and gave him my sweetest, most entrepreneurial smile.
"Sir, haven't you 'eard? This 'ear is Mr. Sweeney Todd. He's the best barber in London. He can do anything, but all you want is a trimming of the hair?"
"Well, ma'am I'm rather in a hurry…"
"Don't you know, though? Mr. Todd performs the fastest, cleanest, closest shaves in the city. Every man can use a good shave now and then. Go on sir, let him pamper you."
The man looked at me then back at Mr. Todd indecisively, but eventually gave way and agreed to have a shave. As he took his seat in the barber's chair, Mr. Todd gave me an appreciative bob of his head. I winked at him and left the shop, the bell ringing pleasantly behind me. What a wonderful partnership we made, Mr. Todd and I. And soon, if things went as I wanted them, we'd be more than just business partners.
Now what shall I do about that lawyer taste? It's not as tough as judge but if you have too much in one setting it's quite terrible. I thought as I descended the stairs back to the pie shop. Then in mid-step, I stopped and thought once more. Of course! I'll sell it with a side of Sunday school teacher! Nice, soft, mellow Sunday school teacher. It's perfect. It'll even out that awful lawyer taste and leave the customers wanting more.
"You've done it again Nellie, old girl." I laughed aloud to myself, "Absolutely brilliant."
And I went on, just like normal, to sell my pies as Mr. Todd worked upstairs; filling the underground of London with the blood of righteous men and the stomachs of my customers with their flesh.