"It'll be all right, love. You'll see. It ain't the end of the world," she says, as I burst into a fresh bout of tears.
"H-h-h-he's gone…and now what'll I do? Just me and Johanna with nobody to take care of us!" I exclaim, sniffling fiercely.
"Now, now dear," she replies, putting an arm around me as I attempt to control my crying.
My husband, Benjamin, has just been given a life sentence for a crime I know he didn't commit. He's been transported to Australia and the last time I saw his face on the docks I scarcely recognised him. His once vibrant dark eyes were sunken and shadowed and his usually healthy skin looked pallid and thin. He had not smiled once during our farewell, only looked at me coldly as though this were somehow my fault. Well, I suppose it is my fault. Judge Turpin has taken a liking to me and it is now clear that he only wanted Benjamin out of his way. He thinks that I am too naïve to realise this, but I am wiser than he guesses.
I look up bleary eyed at the only person in the world I can now trust; our landlady Mrs Lovett. She is the only one who has shown me any sympathy; the only one who seems to care for my plight. I never paid her much attention before but I'm glad of her presence at a time like this.
I had not noticed before but now I see that her eyes are soft and kind, brown like my husband's. Her own husband, Albert, had left her widowed long before we knew her. I suppose that she can relate to how I'm feeling, having lost her own husband too. She smiles at me now with her soft wide lips and I get this strange feeling inside of me. It's as though she were a handsome young man who had just given me that same smile.
Her heart-shaped face is creased with worry, her dark eyebrows drawn together across her normally smooth forehead. She keeps her hair piled on the top of her head, a dark mass, revealing the smooth profile of her slender neck and shoulders. I begin to worry myself with the amount of detail I am observing her in. She rests her pointed little chin on my shoulder and I can feel her soft breath on my neck. She lifts a strand of my yellow hair, placing it carefully behind my ear.
I turn and she stands up swiftly. As she does I observe her full figure; her heaving chest spilling out over her corsets which constrict her stomach to its tiny size. Her skirts don't quite reach the ground, revealing hardy black boots that have seen a good many winters. The shape of her legs are suggested by her clinging skirts, but I only glance briefly much more captivated, once again, by the curve of her neck as it glances onto her bare shoulders and breast. Her skin is like porcelain; she like a doll. Her wide eyes regard me as I stare at her with my own china blue gaze.
I stand, taking a step towards her. I don't know what to say, but find that I am trembling a little. I have to remind myself that she is a woman and besides; I am still married. What I feel cannot be acted upon. Yet I do not think that this is in my hands any longer. I never realised before that she was so beautiful.
She appears to be having thoughts of a similar nature because when I move closer, much closer than is usual, she does not move away. Then it is my turn to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She catches my face, cupping it in her palm and looking into my eyes affectionately. I can think of nothing but those soft, plump lips just a little open as though waiting for my kiss. I lean in to deliver and she urgently receives.
"Pri-ee li'tle thing," she whispers into my ear in her mocking cockney accent.
I kiss her again, tilting my head and holding onto her shoulders which I have been longing just to touch. Her hands are at my slim waist, pulling me that little bit closer. We kiss until our lips are swollen as we dare not do more. It is too new, too frightening.
I lay against her chest on the little sofa, closing my eyes; lulled by her steady breathing. She strokes my hair gently and with affection. We are all alone together, and for now it is enough. Perhaps my situation is not as bad as I thought.
Just as I am about to nod off a harsh cry coming from upstairs wakes me with a start. It is my daughter, Johanna, crying for her Mother. Suddenly I come to my senses, realising that I am indeed a Mother and have to take responsibility. What just happened cannot happen again, much as I wish for it. My daughter needs me and I cannot support her. I know what I have to do, but I don't like it. I don't like it at all. Judge Turpin is the most despicable creature I have ever laid eyes on, but he is the only one who can help me.
I turn to give my last kiss to Nellie Lovett, and through that kiss she somehow understands my intent.
"Do what you hav' to," she advises, putting on a brave face as always.
"Thank you," I say, touching her cheek carefully before heading upstairs to check on Johanna.