It was late morning. Johanna was softly crying upstairs. Mrs. Lovett followed the cries. It was unusual for Lucy to not care for Johanna. Especially since the girl was all she had left. When Mrs. Lovett entered the room, there was no sign of Lucy. There was a sheet of paper on the bed. Mrs. Lovett went to pick up Johanna, whose fussing had quieted. After calming the child, she picked up the paper. Lucy had written it. Mrs. Lovett didn't bother reading past the third line. Three words stood out to her; Apothecary. Arsenic. Good-bye.
Mrs. Lovett spent the day caring for Johanna and Albert simultaneously. In the meantime, she was trying to learn of what happened to Lucy. No one had heard anything. She kept busy, waiting to hear Lucy walk in, telling how she had changed her mind. But that moment never came. Johanna grew fussy as the days wore on. She needed the attentions of her mother, and was able to recognize Mrs. Lovett was not, in fact, her real mother.
It was on a market day when Mrs. Lovett saw Lucy again. Only Lucy was not so much herself anymore. Mrs. Lovett had brought along Johanna, who was cooing happily. She walked through the streets in silence, observing everything and nothing. She felt someone clutching at her skirt as she walked. She wheeled around. There was a yellow haired woman standing before her. Mrs. Lovett recognized the woman. Lucy. There was something much different about her. Like the space behind her eyes was empty. Her eyes themselves appeared to be hollow. Her skin, once fair and clear with pink cheeks, was a hideous gray. She was scarring around her mouth, and her lips were dry and cracked.
"Lucy?" Mrs. Lovett asked. Lucy looked at her, studied her face. Lucy's face darkened. It was as though she didn't even recognize her.
"You," she breathed. "I know you. You're the devil's wife. Ain't you?"
"No," Mrs. Lovett shook her head. "I'm your friend. I have been for quite some time now, love. You need to come with me."
Lucy backed away, a wild fear in her eyes. She was mumbling something incoherent. As earnestly as Mrs. Lovett pleaded with her, there was no hope. Lucy was not dead physically. But mentally, she would never be whole again.
Disheartened and rather frightened, Mrs. Lovett quickly walked home. She sat by the window in the Barker's room, rocking Johanna to sleep. It had been months since she had seen Lucy. She had been worried sick. It was just Mrs. Lovett and Johanna. Her dear Albert had passed on a month before. She missed hearing him snore, and having someone around who would eat her cooking even though she couldn't afford good supplies. But she was glad the poor man was out of his misery now.
Just as she laid Johanna, who was finally asleep, in her crib, there was a loud knocking on the door. The odd thing was, it was on the Barker's door, not the shop door. Mrs. Lovett peered through the curtains and saw two constables standing there. She rushed over to the oak vanity, grabbed Barker's razors, and quickly hid them under a loose floor board. She had a feeling that they would come in handy later. She walked briskly to the door and opened it.
"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted. Neither of the constables returned her cheeriness; they merely stared grimly ahead.
"Ma'am, we're here to take Johanna Barker," one said, sternly. Mrs. Lovett's smile faltered.
"Come again?" she asked.
"Johanna Barker is coming with us," he repeated. Mrs. Lovett shook her head.
"No, she can't. I am perfectly capable of taking care of her. The poor dear's mother is-"
"-Incapacitated. She was taken to Bedlam two weeks ago. The great Judge Turpin has agreed to take her in and care for her." Mrs. Lovett stood her ground.
"Well I was asked to care for the girl," she argued. "And I shall."
The constables pushed past her and walked to Johanna's crib. They picked up the girl, awkwardly. Johanna woke and began to cry. Her eyes searched for Mrs. Lovett. When they found her face, they were filled with a questioning fear. Mrs. Lovett was helpless. There was nothing for her to do to save the girl. Before Mrs. Lovett could blink, they were out the door with the only Barker she had left in her life. Johanna was now in the hands of Judge Turpin.
Mrs. Lovett sucked her breath in, refusing to allow herself to cry. She looked around the room. It was eerily still. All of the Barker's positions lay in their designated spots, without their usual owners occupying them. It bothered her, to see the room uninhabited. She went to a linen closet and placed sheets over all the furniture. She left all exactly as it was, not even making the blankets on Johanna's bed. Once all was shrouded in white, Mrs. Lovett closed the door for what she thought was the last time.
Then the rumors started. Mrs. Lovett didn't take credit for starting them, sharing them, or twisting them, though she did her fair share of each. The Barkers became a sort of legend. An example to the lower few. Times were hard. She could hardly afford meat, it was all lard. It was a rare occurrence if she even got a customer. She was building her own reputation, unintentionally, for having the worst pies in London. The only thing that kept people passing by was the Barkers and their haunted room.
The Barkers never left her thoughts. Lucy was released from Bedlam, but wasn't anymore sane than she was before. The poor thing should have gone to a hospital, anyone could have seen that. She wandered around, begging and talking nonsense. Johanna was growing up. And from what Mrs. Lovett heard, she was a beauty; pale skin, blue eyes, and yellow hair. Just like her mother. But Benjamin. She'd heard nothing of Benjamin. Naturally, she assumed he'd died in prison. It wouldn't be all too unlikely. Still, she dared herself to dream. Dared to believe that he would walk in, and just like old times, they'd be together again. Maybe after all the rough patches in her life, Fate was preparing her at last. Preparing her for Benjamin Barker.