Chapter Fourteen

..She yawned, placing a soft kiss on the boys forehead before falling into her own, dreamless sleep…

Toby awoke long before his adoptive mother, surprised to see that the woman had slept in her dress. She always changed for the night, no matter what time she retired to her chambers. He closed his eyes snuggling against her warm body. He knew there was something wrong with her; last night had been about more than her worry for him, he knew that, but he couldn't place it. Money? No, it was never really an issue to her, they had enough to survive, plus a little extra on the side. Mr. Todd? No, this was to much even for him to have caused. Loneliness? No, he knew she was almost always lonely, but this was different. He'd noticed the faraway, dark look in her eyes the night before; it was as though she was there, but not really there. He was worried, today was their busiest day, and in her state, there was no way she could handle it. He yawned, snuggling into her yet again; he was so cold! He didn't feel too good either, and strange mixture of shivering and sweating making him uncomfortable. He yawned again, slowly drifting back to sleep, resolving that he would help his obviously pained mother in the shop today, no matter how badly his small body ached.

The room was sufficiently brighter by the time Toby re-awoke, the glare of the light making his head spin. He felt dreadfully ill, not unlike he had so many times before; arising after drinking his mind to oblivion. Looking around, he realised that his guardian had long since left the bed, and judging by the noise out side, he figured she was well into the lunchtime rush. He stepped awkwardly from the bed, still fully dressed from the night before, and began to cross into the corridor. He shivered as he opened the door; God he was freezing!

"Toby! What are ya doin?!" the baker's voice called out as he entered the shop, "ya go get back into bed right now!"

"I was gonna 'elp ya mum," the boy said, trying not to sound as sick as he felt.

"Nonsense! Ya need to rest love, you ain't well."

"Im fine," he lied, "what d'ya need 'elp with?"

"Go back to bed," she said, as firmly as her motherly tone would allow.

Her words did no good, he was already walking around, clearing a few plates from the nearest table. She sighed; maybe it was just a simple cold after all. Still, she didn't want to risk it.

"Ya sure love?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes mum, I wouldn't lie," he said.

He did feel slightly bad for lying to her, but she obviously needed his help, and it was the only way to get her to accept it.

"Alrighty then," she said, "thanks love."

He smiled at her briefly before continuing his work, his body protesting with every move he made.

The baker set to work, baking, cutting, brushing and seasoning the pies to suit her cannibalistic customers. She smiled at the thought; if only they knew. The widow continued her absent minded work as her customers eagerly devoured the remains of random strangers, completely oblivious the fact that Toby was no longer appearing at the bench every ten minutes, with a new pile of dishes for her to slave away at.

She sighed contently, shutting the last of the customers out. As much as she loved it, owning her own business was agonizingly hard work. She smiled; at least she had Toby to help her. She looked quickly around her, realising she hadn't seen his face for nearly an hour.

"Toby?" she called out, "where are ya love?"

Hearing no response, she called again, walking towards the parlour.

"Toby? You feeling okay? Where are-," she stopped, finding the boy, unmoving on the floor. She shook her head, tutting; the boy was going to send her bankrupt, the way he drank himself to sleep. She smiled at the sleeping child, reaching down to retrieve the bottle of alcohol; surprised when she found no such bottle in his hand. She looked around, soon spying the bottle; unopened on the shelf. Her stomach suddenly lurched to her throat as she turned back to the boy; if he wasn't drunk asleep then…

"Oh God," she whispered, bending down.

She reached over to him, relieved to find him still breathing. She felt her stomach twist again; something wasn't right. His breathing was shallow, coming in short, soft bursts, rather than the deep breaths that came with sleep. Suddenly clutched by worry, she reached out to him again, feeling for his pulse. She gasped, as far as she could tell, it was weak, even for a small boy. She stood up, the room suddenly seeming to spin. She knew it; she knew it wasn't just a cold, it was something worse. Far worse. She stood silent for a moment, her heart hammering in panic as she felt the darkness creep yet again through her mind; part of her wanted to give in, to let the darkness black out her worry, to numb the pain. No! She shook her head; Toby needed her, now.

"Mr. Todd!" she yelled, panicked.

She was astonished to hear his footsteps descending the stairs, having been accustomed to calling numerous times before gaining a response.

"What?" he asked as soon as he entered the room.

"Toby," she said, the panic finally showing itself clear in her voice, "he-, I-, he-"

"What?" he questioned impatiently.

"I think, I think 'e's fainted."

"Don't be daft woman, he's probably asleep."

"I dunno Mr.T, 'e was out in the rain, 'e must 'av got a chill" she said, trying to ignore the voice in her head that told her it was something worse than just a chill. She shook her head; stay calm.

The barber sighed, he knew she wasn't leaving, or letting him leave until he'd checked the boy.

"Lemme see him," he said gruffly.

The man knelt over the boy, frowning as he saw his shallow breathing. He reached out, feeling the boys soft pulse, and shook his head lightly; it was too soft. He turned around to the widow, who was now wringing her hands anxiously.

"Get a doctor," he said calmly.

"Mr.T?" she questioned, her nerves rising.

"Go," he insisted firmly.

"What's the matter with 'im?" she asked, her voice growing dangerously shrill.

"Now."

With a final growl from the barber, she fled, desperately searching the streets for a doctor.

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