The Demon's Razors

Chapter Two: Consumption

The years flew by, like fleet-winged songbirds, and little Benjamin Timothy Hope grew into a pale and gangly little boy. He was his mother's pride and joy, bringing her wildflowers and pretty ribbons that he bought with his own pocket money. He started to attend the little public school down the road when he was only four, and became quite the scholar. He always wanted to make her happy, and immediately sensed whenever she was not. Even if her worries were only triflings, he'd be there, grubby little fist thrusting a slightly wilted daisy in her direction.

His father, however, became increasingly uncomfortable around his son as he grew. It was as if every time he saw the child he had witnessed a ghost in the flesh. He was even uncomfortable about the name they had given their boy, Johanna's choice.

"Benjamin. That's what we'll call him. Benjamin."

"Dear…are you sure? What about Gregory? Or Jonathan? Or Timothy? My father's name was Timothy, and he grew into an outstanding man. Timothy sounds like a good choice, my pet."

"No. Benjamin. Does my baby look like a Timothy to you?"

"Yes, but dear…"

"His middle name can be Timothy, if it worries you so. But my baby is going to be called Benjamin, and that is that."

And that it was. Benjamin, or Benny as his mother called him, grew very nicely into that name, and his father grew a little paler every time he heard him called thus.

One day, when Ben was six years old, a terrible thing happened. The innkeeper, Mr. Mason, caught the consumption. Mrs. Mason was terribly worried for her aging husband's health, so she decided to move him to the mountains around Asheville, renowned for their fresh air and renewing properties. But she didn't want her husband's precious pub and inn to go to the dogs, so she asked for her sister, a Mrs. Mooney, to travel across the pond and look after things. Mrs. Mooney agreed, and the sisters made the switch only a month and a half afterwards.

Mrs. Mooney was a sharp, bitter old thing, a widow. She had made her living for years as a pie-maker in London, and almost immediately she and Benjamin struck up a sort of friendship. Both Benjamin's parents were a little uneasy with this, as Mrs. Mooney was a rather suspicious looking character, but they let Benjamin chat with the old hag, in case Mrs. Mooney decided to up their rent because of it. She had taken a real shine to Benjamin, feeding him her famous pies whenever he so much as asked, and told him all sorts of tales of her life in London. One such story was that of a certain Mrs. Lovett, an old business rival, and her supposed lover, a Mr. Sweeney Todd, the best barber—and murderer—on Fleet Street. Had Anthony not been working from sun-up to sun-down, he would have put a stop to these stories at once, but as it was Mrs. Mooney made sure to send Benjamin back up the stairs right before his father arrived home.

As it was, it happened to be Johanna who heard these tall-tales. She sat in an ancient rocker right above the store and did her sewing, and once in a while, when she paused her needle for a moment's rest, she'd hear a snatch of a song float up the stairs.

The worst pies in London.
And no wonder with the price of meat
what it was
when you'd get it.
Never thought I'd live to see the day.
Men'd think it was a treat
findin' poor
stricken creatures
what are dyin' in the street.
Mrs. Lovett had a pie shop.
Did a business, but I noticed something weird.
For a while all her neighbors went up and disappeared.
Had to hand it to her!
What I calls,
enterprise!
Poppin' people into pies!
Wouldn't do in my shop!
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!
And I'm telling you them razorblades were quick.
No denying times was hard, sir!
Even harder than the worst pies in London.

The story frightened Johanna very badly, although she tried not to show it, and the very mention of razorblades made her jump in her chair. She kept her cool, and when Benjamin and Anthony arrived home she did her best to greet them warmly. She even took up knitting soon after, and the constant clatter of knitting needles made it harder for Johanna to hear any more stories from that dreadful Mrs. Mooney.

But Benjamin listened to these stories with rapt fascination, eyes wide, and mouth half-open. Johanna knew firsthand about this, watching her son and an idle Mrs. Mooney as she went out to deliver her newly made dresses. She shuddered at the thought of the hold the crone had on her precious boy. It was almost as if the witch had enchanted him.

The year Benjamin turned seven was the year another calamity struck, this one closer to home. Anthony caught the consumption. Johanna tried her hardest to ignore the wracking coughs that shuddered his slowly thinning frame, and treated his symptoms as she would treat a cold. But soon the coughing spells would last several minutes at a time. It broke Johanna's already fragile heart to see him like this. And slowly, as Anthony grew too weak for work, the coughing grew on her nerves. It chafed at the thin thread that was her sanity, and it was only a matter of time before the string snapped.

Mrs. Mooney wasn't much of a help. She did lower their rent at Johanna's desperate pleas, but it was probably more for Benjamin's sake than pity for the half-crazed woman.

The razors began to appeal to the maddened woman. She wondered if it would really be so bad to put the ill man out of his misery…Judge Turpin had used that term once, when her lapdog had contracted hydrophobia. Put it out of its misery. And every time a wheezing noise even dared to escape her wasted hubby, the phrase did a lovely tango with her beautiful salvation…her shiny set of razors.

Then, all of a sudden, Anthony began to recover. He started to eat again and sit up more. His coughing subsided. He had some color to his cheeks. And all the tension in Johanna's shoulders seemed to melt away. She began to sing joyously every morning, and on a lark bought a couple of canaries, to provide cheery music.

Anthony went back to work, and a steady paycheck came in once again. Johanna took up baking lessons from Mrs. Mooney, her happy relief giving her a new surplus of energy. Even Mrs. Mooney seemed happier now, probably because her sleep wasn't being interrupted constantly by sharp gasping noises each night anymore.

But then, only a week after returning to work, a shifty-eyed fellow showed up on Johanna's doorstep. She had been worrying about Anthony all evening, especially when he didn't come home at his usual time. He was three hours over-due, and it wasn't like him to be late. She ushered the man in rather coldly, keeping her eyes on him like a hawk.

"Missus Hope?"

"Yes, that would be me. What is it? Is it something to do with Anthony? He's been ill with consumption for a while, sir…"

"It's not that, ma'am. I hate to tell you this, but your husband was in a horrible accident."

Johanna's knees wobbled rather unsteadily. She collapsed into a little heap on the floor, just as Benjamin threw open the door. His face, which had been flushed with excitement and pride, turned to ash when he saw his mother.

"You monster! What did you do to her?"

"Your father is dead, m'boy. She couldn't handle the news."

Johanna's eyes fluttered open at this.

"I am stronger…than you'd think." She tried desperately to stand, but her head swam. Gasping, fighting unconsciousness, she grasped the nearest stable surface, hers and Anthony's dresser, and hauled herself up. Leaning heavily against the dresser, she glared at the mousy little man.

"Leave at ONCE!" Her voice became a surprising roar, considering her weakened state.

"Ma'am, the company I represent requires me to give you this severance pay…"

"Do you not understand the King's English? OUT! We don't want your money! We want my husband back! OUT, YOU VIPER!"

The man left, but not before dropping the money in Johanna's chair.

The next month or so saw Johanna fall apart at the seams. Benjamin stopped attending school to look after her, although he was still quite young. She lost the will to eat, sleep never graced her tired form, and she began to rave, speaking of blood-stained demons and their seductive implements. Sometimes she tore her hair out by the clumps, once-beautiful hair that was turning prematurely gray. Often she'd lash out at little Benjamin, who brooded whenever he wasn't caring for his mother.

Finally, an irate Mrs. Mooney clumped up the stairs to shake some sense into the woman, a worried Benjamin hot on her heels.

"Stupid ninny! Pull yourself together, you silly lark! Stop your BLOODY YELLING!" And she smacked the hysterical girl. "Do you think that you're the only one to lose a husband? To lose family? To be alone? LOOK AFTER YOUR SON! AT LEAST YOU HAVE ONE! I LOST EVERYTHING!"

Johanna seemed to snap out of it for a while, and even appeared as if she was listening.

"Learn to be strong, you foolish girl. You have responsibilities. Don't neglect those that never harmed you. And NEVER let me find another bruise on this boy!" And she slapped Johanna once more, to make her point.

Even though Johanna would never be quite the same again, the good-intentioned Mrs. Mooney had indeed slapped some sense into her. As soon as she had recovered her remaining wits, she packed all her worldly possessions, and left the inn with Benjamin in tow. Yet another new chapter of her life was just beginning.

---

Author's Note: Poor Johanna...well, you knew it'd happen one day. I mean, her father a serial killer, her mother a total loony...and I know Lucy got that way from the arsenic, but still. She was mad enough to poison herself when she had a little baby to look after. Do you think Mrs. Lovett would've done such a thing? No.

To whoever guessed that Johanna's baby was a reincarnation of her father, RIGHT YOU ARE! Here, have a meat pie. It's fresh. ;) I even gave him the same name, to drive the point home. Just wait until little Ben grows up...

Never really liked Anthony. He was destined to die, either at the hand of his crazy wife, or in a tragic accident. Pooooooor Johanna.

What else? Oh, right! Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd or "The Worst Pies in London". Wish I did, but no. All I own is Sweeney Todd's Mini Me, and that's all.

Reviews are love.