Chapter Two: Pies

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT MY OWN IDEAS. EVERYTHING IS OWNED BY STEPHANIE MEYER AND TIM BURTON AND WHOEVER ELSE. I DO NOT OWN ANYTING EXCEPT A FEW IDEAS.

We walked through the streets of London to Fleet Street. We saw our old home and the newer shop under it, Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies. We walked in and a bell dinged and a woman in a black dress turned around and gasped.

"Customers!" We started to turn back out," Wait! Where's your rush? Where's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost! Have a minute. Sit! Seat you down, sit!" She pushed us down into a booth," All I mean is that I haven't seen a customer in weeks. Did you come in for some pies? Do forgive me if me heads a little vague, what was that, but you'd think we had the plague, from the way the people, keep avoiding, no you don't," she slapped a bug on her counter," heaven knows I try, but no one comes in even to inhale, right you are would you like a drop of ale? Mind you I can hardly blame them, these are probably the worst pies in London." She gave us each a pie, Benjamin looked at his wit disgust and I pushed mine around, "I should know, I make them, but good now, the worst pies in London. Even that's polite, the worst pies in London. If you dare to take a bite," she gave us both some ale and we took a bite, and immediately regretted it. We spat it out and she said, "is that just disgusting, you have to conceit it, it's nothing but crusting, here drink this you'll need it. The worst pies in London. And I wonder with the price of meat, what it is, when you get it. Never thought I'd live to see the day. Many thought it was a trick, finding poor animals, what are dying in the streets. Mrs. Moony has a pie shop. Does her business but I noticed something weird. Lately all her neighbors' cats have disappeared. Have to hand it to her. What a course! Enterprise! Popping pussies 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 pussy-cat is quick. No denying times is hard. Even harder than the worst pies in London. Only lard and nothing more, is that just revolting. All greasy, and gritty. It looks like it's molding and tastes like, well pity a woman alone, with limited wind, and the worst pies in London! Well, times is hard, times is hard!" She slammed her rolling pin down on a bug. "Come along now. It'll take a lot more than ale to get that taste out. Lets get you a nice tucker of gin."

She led us through to her home in the back of the shop, into a room with a window that looks up to our old home. She gave us each a glass of gin, which we both drank quickly, as if we were going to die if we didn't get the taste out of our mouths. Thank God, it worked. Those pies were awful. Benjamin asked her if anyone now resides up there, he was pointing at the home just up the wooden stairs.

"oh, no, I don't even go up there, people say it's haunted," we looked at her, wondering what she meant," You see, something happened up there, something not very nice."

"What happened?" I asked. If something happened to Lucy, I swear….

"There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful. A proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life." So it probably does have to do with Lucy," He had this wife, you see. Pretty little thing, silly little nit sat up there all day and thought by the hour. Every day the Judge he'd send her a flower, but did she come down from her tower. Poor thing, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing. The beadle calls on her over night, the Judge, he says, is all contrite, he blames himself for her dreadful blight, poor thing. Of course when she goes there, poor thing, poor thing. They're having this ball, all in masks. There's no one she knows there, poor dear, poor thing. She wanders, tormented and drinks, poor thing. Where is Judge Turpin, she thinks, poor thing. Where is Judge Turpin, she asks. He was there alright. Only not so contrite. She was no match for such craft you see, and everyone thought it so droll. They figured she had to be daft you see, so all of them stood there and laughed you see, poor thing, poor thing."

"NO!" Benjamin yelled. I was sobbing and he pulled me closer, I never told him what the Judge did the night before we were sent abroad but there was no need to tell him. He'd heard me screaming for help from the cell next to his. He still hated the fact that he couldn't save me. Now it was worse, his wife was also a victim of the Judge."Wouldn't anyone help her?"I asked.

"So it is you, Benjamin and Bella Barker."