Disclaimer: of course I don't own Sweeney Todd… : (
Vaguely, Mr. Todd thought he heard Anthony say good-bye or something as he started off toward Fleet Street. He felt as though his head was enveloped in cotton, sights and sounds muted and distant as his head spun with the full realisation of what was happening. He had dreamed of this moment for years, envisioned every detail, how he would bound off the ship, run home, Lucy would be sitting at the window, as she had loved to do so many years ago… She would look down and see him, recognise him after all these years, and he would run up to her, she would greet him at the door… A beautiful young woman who looked just like Lucy that Mr. Todd had never seen would be standing behind his wife, wondering who this man was…
Now that he was here, he was not as chipper as he'd imagined. His old hatred, his old cynicism had failed to vanish. But they would surely melt as soon as he saw his wife again… Lucy could heal him, restore him…
It had all been so romanticized in his head, he began to realise. He had been a fool to dream. He had left out the sordid details of this stinking city. How had he forgotten? He thought he had only hated the idea, the philosophy of London, what the town represented to him, not the actual, physical town. As he stalked down the streets, growing almost dizzy as he got even closer to his old home, rats scurried about his feet, squealing to each other and skittering away. Homeless men were passed out on the streets, more closely resembling the garbage they lay in than a human being. Prostitutes with dull eyes in seedy, stained dresses beckoned on every corner. Sewage had piled thickly on all sides of the road, threatening to spill and leak onto the paths of the Londoners as they made their way through the foggy morning, heads down, not talking, not looking, not paying attention, as if trying to shut out their reality. Todd couldn't blame them.
Charcoal clouds clung to the tops of the buildings as though trying to warm themselves; the grey smoke rising from the chimney tops melted and blended into the clouds forming a wall of iron, as though trying to shut in the inhabitants of the town. Todd shuddered. A slow, cool drizzle started and stopped fitfully on the street vermin that Mr. Todd waded through on the last leg of his desperate journey home. He pulled his thin coat about him against the damp chill.
From the uneven, filthy cobblestones, to the stench of the half-rotted fruit and fish in the open air markets, it all assailed him and he remembered afresh the unpleasant details that he had conveniently stuffed away as he tried in vain to paint a more idyllic picture of the section of London surrounding Fleet Street, surrounding his wife. Had his Lucy really lived among this refuse all these years? Somehow, he couldn't reconcile her golden, kind-hearted beauty with this dismal, dreary, cold place.
And all of a sudden, he was there.
A strange feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach. He hovered near the corner of the building across the street, just staring. He swallowed, looking at the building as though for the first time. It may as well have been the first time, it looked nothing like he remembered, except for that great window on the second story. He didn't feel as happy as he thought he might. There was no Lucy in the window. The whole building looked dark.
The chipped and peeling sign read "Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies." So someone else lived downstairs now. Before, the bakery had belonged to Albert Blackwell and his wife, but evidently, the old landlord was gone. Probably moved to a bigger house to start a family, Todd reasoned, remembering that Blackwell's wife had been young. About his age, actually.
He took a slow step forward into the street. Why was he hesitating? He thought he would be running. More steadily, he crossed the street, closing the distance between his old life and the present, between the ghost of Benjamin Barker and the shade known as Sweeney Todd.
He would just step inside and inquire after the residents upstairs. If it turned out that Lucy and Johanna had moved as well, perhaps the new landlord would know of their whereabouts. But he desperately hoped--no, not hoped, that was something Sweeney Todd had abandoned long ago--rather, he desperately wanted them to still be here.
He quietly eased open the door to the shop, remaining in the doorway like a dog that's not used to being let inside the house by his owners. With a glance, he took in the interior of the shop: dusty, lackluster, and completely empty but for himself and the haggard, black clad woman behind the counter. Oblivious to his entry, she chopped away at some piece of vegetable, looking for all the world as if she had given up on life. Was this who Lucy paid the monthly rent to?
When after a moment she still did not look up, he just stood there, helpless. God, when was the last time he had spoken to a woman?
And then, she abruptly quit her chopping and realised someone was standing there. She looked at him swiftly with big, startled brown eyes and gasped.
It was the first time someone had noticed him in a very long time.
The next chapter should be better, I promise, Mrs. Lovett's in it for more than 2 seconds!
