Hey! If you found this story you get a hug! Hopefully I'll get more readers with this chapter. Enjoy!!
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"Mrs. Lovett, who is this?" The dark figure walked into the shop. His pale face illuminated the little light that came from the oil lamp chandelier. He smiled at Alice's young face. His voice was deep but gentle. "Hello," he was seemed to be slightly shy in front of young women.
"This is Alice, she's lookin' for a room, jus' got out of the asylum across town, don't you still 'ave the small room in the back, Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett said nervously. Mr. Todd didn't respond, but looked at Alice's sweet face.
"Why were you put in the crazy house?" he said, looking away. He hardly looked at someone while they were talking.
"Well, years ago my family died in a fire." Sweeney sat down to listen to the story. "My cat and I were the only ones who got out. They sent me straight to the asylum, and my cat lingered around to catch mice in the hallways. I was released about a day ago, my cat is missing, and I have no where to go."
"Then how in the world did you end up over here?" Mr. Todd asked, curiously.
"When I left the asylum, I heard that Fleet Street had a very nice array of starting businesses. I'm just looking for a place to write."
Mrs. Lovett looked over in disbelief. "A writer, a girl no doubt, that is somethin' ya' don't see ev'ryday, now is it Mr. T?"
Mr. Todd turned to Alice. "I do have a room. It's small, but it's good enough for a bed and writing desk." He said nonchalantly. He looked up at Mrs. Lovett, and received a stare back, he shook his head saying 'no', and she smiled. "Come along, I'll show it to you." He stood up and made way for the door.
Alice got up and grabbed her suitcase. "I'll be down in a minute to get my meat pie, and we can discuss a trade. Is that all right?" Alice said walking to the door.
"That's fine, dearie." Mrs. Lovett called out, not taking her eyes off of her pies.
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As the two were walking up the stairs, Sweeney Todd started a conversation. If she'll be living close, it's good to know neighbors. He thought. "So, was the death of your family the only cause of gaining a room at the crazy house?"
"Actually," she paused. "There is another reason." Her face turned red in embarrassment, sadness, and anger.
When they reached the top of the stairs, she continued on as she looked around the barber parlor. "Well, you see, as a child I had an overactive imagination. I was a silly little blonde who daydreamed about wonderlands and tea parties. Soon, though, my hair grew brown like my mother's, and I learned things. When I visited those daydreams I could think and reason more. But, then the fire happened, my senses and emotions were erased, Wonderland disappeared."
Now, her eyes filled with tears. No one else up until now knew the whole story except her and her cat. But it felt good to let it out. She found that she was sitting in the barber chair. "As I was at the Asylum, I found the daydreamed and used them to help me. I overcame complete absence of sanity, and they let me out." She looked up from the floor, to find Mr. Todd looking at her intently.
"Goodness…" a faint whisper escaped his lips. "So now, you plan to right down stories of that Wonderland, yes?" she nodded. "Come on, let's have you look at your room."
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Downstairs, Mrs. Lovett talked with Toby, her assistant she adopted from a street vendor. "Toby, do you ever think about what you'll do when you're old enough to move out?" she asked.
"I'll work hard to inherit the business so you can retire, ma'am." He said. "Why?"
"Just curious, I guess, dearie." She said. "That girl who'll be living upstairs will have all of us curious." She said, looking up.