title Piano
author pinkeop
summary If he asked, she would have gladly played that piano for him.
authors note HEY FELLAS! How's it goin'? I had to write this becaaause, well it was a cute idea and also I like getting reviews. There's a bit of Sweenett, I guess, if you squint really hard. I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you all enjoy reading it.
One shot, of course. Review your little hearts out! I have another multi-chapter fic coming out soon, and I believe I'm going to call it Scream, you know, like the Kill Hannah song.
Don't forget to review, you guys!
Love!
Pink Elephants on Parade
p.s; andaere makes me happy wiv all her reviews. heart
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Piano
Mrs. Nellie Lovett had taught herself to play when she was very little. Growing up, her family wasn't wealthy, but they did own a small, oak piano. It was nothing special, but Mrs. Lovett enjoyed playing nonetheless, even if no one was ever around to listen. Her mother died when she was naught but twelve years old and her father was a butcher. She had to teach herself a lot of things- to read and to write, and of course to play that old, oak piano.
When she got older, she stopped playing. She turned what had once been her father's butcher shop into her own Meat Pie Emporium, having been baking and dealing with meat all her life, the trade only seemed appropriate. When she met Albert, she learned that he didn't like her to play much- her Albert liked his silence. When Mr. Barker and his heavily pregnant Lucy moved in, sometimes Benjamin would ask her to play for him but Mrs. Lovett always found herself on the go. Never could sit still and rest for more than a few minutes at a time.
"You just let that old thing sit in there and gather dust!" He would say. "Won't you play it for me, Nellie?" And then he would laugh so warm and soft.
After he was taken away, the baker regretted not playing for him every time he asked. When her dear Albert passed, Mrs. Lovett pushed the very thought of the piano out of her mind, letting it gather dust in the corner of the parlor. For 15 years, she didn't touch it and her hands forgot how to play, knowing now only to make what could potentionally be the best pies in all of London, if she brought in the money to buy the meat. And she was alone in her shop, her only company the picture of her dear Albert hanging int he shop and the cockroaches that scurried through the ever-present flour that covered the counter.
The moment Mr. Todd walked into her shop with that gloomy atmosphere, her entire world got a little brighter as soon as she realized her Mr. Barker had come home at last. He had changed- he was no longer the warm, young man she remembered to have the prettiest honey, brown eyes and the brightest laugh she'd ever heard. Of course, Mrs. Lovett would do anything for this new Benjamin- this Sweeney Todd -would ask of her. Even bake all of London into pies. And even if she hadn't for over 15 years...
If he asked, she would have gladly played that piano for him.
But he didn't. In fact, he barely noticed her when she tried to get his attention, for him to seek it? The chance was beyond slim. Mrs. Lovett would always stare longingly at the old piano when ever he happened to be in the parlor with her, but his gaze never lifted from the fire, seething longingly for revenge.
It was on one hot, summer night as Mrs. Lovett sat alone in the parlor by candle light that she got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was like nostalgia, only stronger. Looking up from the book she had been gazing at idly, not really reading, the baker's eyes landed on the old piano, probably long out of tune and out of order. But nonetheless, a fond smile fell over her lips as it did every time she looked upon it. The keys were unprotected for years, coated with dust she never bothered to brush away. And she could hardly remember how to play a scale! It'd been so long since she'd last touched those keys. The baker pushed aside her book and stood on her achy feet, moving towards the piano. She stood a foot short, fat too afraid to go any closer. Her lips pulled into a frown. It wasn't in very good condition, but she thought perhaps, what with times so hard- she could hock it for almost twice what the old thing was worth. This thought made the frown deeper on the woman's face.
Shaking her head, Mrs. Lovett stepped closer to the old piano, running one finger solidly over a key, being careful not to push. She came away with a streak of dust and dirt on her finger. She couldn't sell the thing. Maybe now it was only taking up space, but it held the memories of when times were better. When she would play for her father for hours after the last customer would leave. And maybe she never allowed herself to play for him, but it held the memory of her darling Benjamin Barker. She couldn't imagine the empty wall without it. Mrs. Lovett sat on the wooden seat, placing her hands to hover over the keys, running over the dust gently. She bit her bottom lip. No, she couldn't sell this old piano, not even if times were hard. With Mr. Todd up there, she at least had regular meat coming in to bring ino business regular-like. Yes, her Mr. Todd brought good fortune on her the moment he stepped through her door. The young boy, too- Toby his name was -was taken to her like he was her own. Two miscarriages and one baby born too weak to live longer than half a forth night had convinced the baker that she wasn't intended to have her own babies. But Toby was like a child of her own without having to go through the anxiety of not knowing if it was going to live. She couldn't have baby of her own, but she could damn well take care of someone else's baby.
This piano had lived through so many lives- what were a few more?
Mrs. Lovett ran her fingers over the keys. She pressed down on one dusty, faded white key gently. A strange disappointment rushed over her when it made no noise. S he let it lift, then pressed the key harder. This time, an out of tune gong resounded from the piano. A smile crossed her lips. Not even the sheet music had been put away, resting against it's stand over the keys. Mrs. Lovett racked her brain, trying to remember exactly how to play such a powerful instrument. Clenching her teeth, the woman tested a few more keys, getting the same result- poor sounding notes. With one hand, she attempted a scale. It sounded fairly right, considering the name thing hadn't been tuned in... goodness, since she'd been married to her dear Albert! Filled with an odd, giddy excitement, the baker let her fingers frolic and play over the keys, filling the parlor with an out of tune jubilee of music. It had been ever so long since she'd touched the piano and was delight to find she could at least play a scale, several, if she put her fingers to it. Reading the music, she knew instantly, was out of her memory. She'd grown too old to remember that, and it wasn't as if she'd ever really learned to read when she was younger, either.
The baker clapped her hands together in delight and thought back to when her father would sit in his old chair- that she had to hock long ago ( times were hard! ) -and listen to her play. When she placed her fingers back on the piano, she was happy to find that they moved almost on their own accord. Perhaps over 15 years of playing balanced out the fifteen years that she hadn't. It sounded less than perfect, for the piano was in bad shape, and her fingers slipped and bumped into each other when she tried something far too elaborate for them, but it was an obvious tune, filling up the parlor. Something inside her soared as she watched carefully her fingers, making sure they went in all the right places, trying not to get too discouraged when she had to start over because of a wrong note.
"Mum?"
Her fingers came slamming down on the keys and a disgruntled noise gurgled from the piano. The woman turned frantically in the seat to spot Toby peering from around her bedroom door- she'd let him sleep there for the night, she could remember lifting him off the couch and taking him in there earlier in the night. She felt suddenly guilty for waking him, and Mrs. Lovett smiled softly, sheepishly.
"Goodness, love!" she crooned. "Did I wake yeh? Almost fergot yeh was sleepin' in there wiv the door open..."
Toby rubbed his eyes. "Was tha' you?" He asked.
Mrs. Lovett shrugged her shoulders and motioned for him to come closer, which he did, scuffling across the floor of the parlor and taking a seat beside her on the bench. "I used ta play when I was jus' a lit'le thing," Mrs. Lovett said idly, running her hand over the keys. "'Aven't played in a while, now, an' I jus' wanted ta see if'n I could still."
"It was pretty," Toby offered loyally.
"Now, now," the woman said, ruffling his hair lightly. "It's far too out of tune to be pretty."
"Will you play fer me?" Toby asked.
Mrs. Lovett chuckled and shook her head. Just when she opened her mouth to object, another voice, soft but firm, came from the doorway behind them.
"Yes, Mrs. Lovett," the voice said. Turning around, Mrs. Lovett- her heart pounding with a slight fright -saw that it was only Mr. Todd, leaning against the parlor door way with a set look on his face- his brows furrowed, his eyes dark, the lines on his face thrown into shadows, making him seem older and more gaunt than normal.
"Mr. T!" she said, shaking her head. "Yeh gave me a fright! Don't go sneakin' up on me old 'eart like that, yeh gonna make me catch me death from that!"
The man took a few steps into the room and crossed his arms over his chest, his face not giving any to what thoughts ran to and fro in his head. He motioned with an inclination of his chin towards the piano she sat at. "Play for the boy, Mrs. Lovett," he drawled blandly.
Mrs. Lovett's lips curled slightly, but she turned back towards the piano, glancing sideways at Toby, who sat eagerly silent. Her hands raised back to the dusty old, out of tune keys, and...
When she played, no matter how out of tune it sounded to her, Mrs. Lovett was aware, slightly, of Toby's enraptured gaze on her fingers, and Mr. Todd who had moved to stand closer to her right side, one large hand of his resting on the top edge of the piano, leaning his weight. She could feel his cold gaze burning into the side of her face, for unlike Toby, he was watching her concentrated expression. It made her feel nervous and giddy and her fingers slipped and an odd note was thrown in there, making the peice, whatever it was she was playing, sound choppy and uncoordinated.
Finally, she lifted her fingers and turned sharply to Toby. "Time for bed," she said sternly. He looked surprised and taken aback.
"But--!"
"Don't argue wiv me," Mrs. Lovett said sharply. The boy's eyes widened and without another word, he took off for her room where he had awoken to the piano. At the doorway, he faltered, but with one sharp look from his mum, he closed the bedroom door behind him for good measure. Sighing, Mrs. Lovett looked up at Mr. Todd, who's gaze had not moved from her face, concentrated and intent.
"Yeh best be gettin' of ta bed too, b'fore I give yeh a good whippin'." She told him.
The man's eyes crinkled at the edges, as if he were smiling.
"You never would play for me," he said suddenly, lifting his gaze from her face to run over the contours of the piano. "Always make up excuses, but you would never play for me."
"Oh, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett said, fiddling with the skirt of her dress. "No need to be sour- I was just busy then, yeh see. Always regretted not playin' fer yeh though, I did, an' you best believe it."
Mr. Todd nodded slowly, not moving from where he stood, leaning his weight against the piano. "Would you play for me, now?" he asked.
Mrs. Lovett chuckled anxiously and shook her head. "Now, Mr. T, I just played for yeh."
"No," the man snarled harshly, his dark eyes landing on her. "You played for the boy. I'm asking you to play for me."
Mrs. Lovett looked up suddenly, his brows knit together in the middle of her forehead, confusion written across her face. His own expression lightened and softened as hers was painted over with confusion. It wasn't an offer she could easily refuse, at least without making him pout of a few hours, so the woman turned back to the piano and did her best to calm her nerves before her fingers met the keys.
It was much more simple this time, listening to the melody as her fingers churned out the out-of-tune notes, forcing the piano to crank out something that sounded much more like music, more so than it had in the last fifteen years. And even as she tried something more elaborate, her fingers did not stumble and fail her. And the entire time she could feel Mr. Todd's eyes on her face, watching her expression. What it was she could only guess- concentrated, peaceful, perhaps? She felt at peace. She felt as if she'd finally accomplished the one thing that had been hovering out of her sight for over twenty years. Taunting her, hovering just out of her reach. When her hands began to cramp- for not playing a while took a lot of out her muscles -the music weaved to a stop, much more ceremoniously than when Toby had frightened her to end playing.
Her hands hovered over the last keys before they slid down into her lap, throbbing and happy to no longer be playing.
"Thank you, Mrs. Lovett," Mr. Todd said gruffly. Something bubbled in her throat, and Mrs. Lovett realized it was word-vomit the moment the question escaped her lips.
"Why don't you call me Nellie anymore?"
The man had turned halfway, as if to make an exit to the room. He stopped for a long moment, turning his eyes onto her. There was nothing for him to be angry about, so she wasn't afraid of his irritation with her. It was a simple question that had to do with her, so she figured she was in bounds to ask it.
"I wasn't aware that..." the man paused and cleared his throat. "...that you would like me to."
Mrs. Lovett's lips curled into a wry smile. "I would like that, very much." She told him. Mr. Todd's brows furrowed and he looked away from her, staring at the parlor door, so within his reach. All he needed where a few long strides to get there.
"Well then..." He murmured. "Good night... Nellie." His face looked almost pained to say the name. "And I thank you for- finally -playing for me."
"Any time, love," Mrs. Lovett murmured softly, smiling the same fond smile.
He was at the door way when he turned and flashed her the largest smile she'd ever seen on his face. She was almost afraid it would break him. It surprised her, because with that smile he looked, for an instant, like the old Benjamin Barker that she once knew. Her heart soared at that smile.
"I will hold you to that, my pet," he told her, before he disappeared through the dark parlor arch and up to his shop.
Mrs. Lovett laughed quietly in the silent room, shaking her head to herself. Unconventional? Yes. But a family nonetheless? Her dream seemed less bleak with each passing day.
Mrs. Lovett was suddenly very greatful that she had taught herself to play that old, dusty, oak piano.