Midnight at Noonday
"Witch. WITCH!" she shrieks, backing up into the window. Mrs. Lovett does all she can to restrain herself from hitting the woman. She can't take it. Not any more. As a final tribute to Mr. Barker, she was going to take care of the woman and her daughter, but she cannot handle Lucy's incessant blubbering and the fits she throws. Grabbing her by the shoulders, Nellie gives the delicate woman a good shake, not stopping until Lucy has ceased speaking. "I am not a witch, you little nit," she says, releasing her. "'Ow do you think you're still alive?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Lucy says nothing, just shakes, drawing her hands up to her chest and wringing them as she looks over at the crib where they crying baby lays.
"Sweet polly - grass - deedle! Poor child, ahh Johanna," she mumbles incoherently, her face softening on the last word. She hobbles over to the child, a pockmarked hand reaching to stroke the small child's forehead. Sighing, Mrs. Lovett approaches her. "Come on, love. Time for bed." But Lucy whirls on her, her face livid. "You want 'er!" she accuses, her face turned into a snarl. "You want him! You always wanted him, you little witch," she spits, and Mrs. Lovett is astounded at her fury and her coherence. "Devil's wife," she mutters harshly. "You can't get 'em! They're MINE!" she screeches the last word, flying at Mrs. Lovett with arms outstretched. They tumble to the floor, and it isn't long before Nellie's pinned her down, auburn curls hanging wildly around her face like fire. "You bitch!" she screams, and the tears come. Lucy lays there crying as well, terrified and pitiful as a child. "I won't have it! You're mad as a bat! Get out!" she cries, leaping off the woman. When Lucy doesn't move, Mrs. Lovett shoves her out of the shop, prodding her until she's at the steps. "And don't come back," she spits, slamming the door and locking it behind her. And for the second time, she is grateful for what she has done to Lucy Barker.