Chapter 37

The day after our arrival in Fleet Street was considerably warm, and even though a madman was tracking us down in order to kill us, Grandma let me sit outside with her in the early afternoon. She was still fuming after her intense talk with Mr. Todd. The Demon Barber himself left her alone outside to go back up to his shop, and Grandma told me that I'd best leave him alone to his thoughts.

I agreed. He needed it.

But even so, I couldn't help but look up at his shop door every now and again, and I'd sometimes see him pass the window; Pacing, probably.

It had been nagging me - what I'd been meaning to ask Grandma - for the longest time. And now I could ask. And I would.

"Grandma?"

"Eh?" She didn't look up.

"Why is Geoffrey after us?"

Grandma didn't reply right away, which led me to falsely believe she wouldn't reply at all.

"What inclined him to kill Dad?"

"Well, love, 'e-"

"Why does he hate us so much?" I added on, anger carrying in my voice now.

"Love, shush," Grandma hushed me, grabbing my upper arm and squeezing. "The reason for why Geoffrey's so batshit insane ain't our fault."

I stared at her, dumbstruck for a few heartbeats. I'd've at least expected her to say "not our business", but... not our fault? Who said it was ever our fault in the first place?

"What do you mean?"

Grandma sighed. "...Deary, Geoffrey blames us for the state of 'is... family."

"What state?" I wondered aloud.

Despite his glum mood, courtesy of his brother's dark, twisted ways, Teddy seemed fine. Even when all alone in that quiet bookstore of his.

"Look, love," Grandma pinched the bridge of her nose as she began her speech. "The Turpin's are... not much liked in the area, as yeh can imagine. The remaining Turpin's, any'ow."

"Yeah?" I prompted.

"Well... Geoffrey ain't all that 'appy with us, y'see? We're... we're rather much rootin' for the opposing party."

It took a moment for what she was saying to dawn on me.

"So... people spit at the mentioning of Judge Turpin's descendants... Everyone likes us-"

"No, no, love," Grandma cut me off. "Lovett's are the sleesey, untrustworthy ones, accordin' to the neighbor'ood. No one cares too much for us, either. The Barker's are the ones everyone shows sympathy for."

"But why?" I demanded. "Our generation has done nothing to deserve anything special, be it sympathy or hatred."

"Jus' the way Fleet Street residences see things, love," Grandma shrugged. "Not to mention the rumor 'bout us 'ousing Mr. Todd upstairs. An' if yeh care to move back to Geoffrey... The man couldn't see 'is poor family fall under the 'ateful glares of Londoners. 'E's been 'olding out on us for a while now, believe it or not. Now, 'e's finally goin' in for the kill."

My heart skipped a beat. "But... I still don't fully understand."

And she seemed to know immediately what part confused me so. "We, apparently, are the ones who started 'is suffering. Now 'e feels 'e needs to end it by killing us. God knows what 'e'll do with 'imself if 'e ends up finishing us."

"And what about Mr. Todd?" I asked hesitantly.

"Mr. T?" Grandma's voice was bitter. "I think, to our great misfortune, Mr. Todd is the one man Geoffrey wishes to 'urt above all others."

I tilted my head forward, grim. "But... but we've got nothing to worry about, right? I mean... no one can cross Sweeney and get away with it. If he doesn't want to kill Geoffrey, he'll at least send him running for the hills."

Grandma huffed, openly expressing her disagreement. "I'm afraid, love, that Mr. Todd may 'ave no choice but to kill. If 'e don't plan to do that, then 'e'll let Geoffrey do what 'e pleases - surrender to 'im."

I seriously doubted the Demon Barber would ever surrender to anyone.

As if reading my mind, Grandma finished her point, "What with the state Mr. T's in, I wouldn't put it past 'im, really."

I took to sitting on the chest for this vision, already knowing from experience that the incidents that were about to happen before me would in no way affect myself in any physical manner.

Sweeney was sitting in his chair, glaring off into space. He, of course, had an opened up razor with him.

However, even quicker than before, the door opened. Not as hard as last time, though, when Mr. Todd threw it open in all his anger.

Young Grandma walked in. She smiled at him in a simple, friendly sort of way. "I... I told yeh I'd be back, Mr. T."

Sweeney looked up at her, but his mirthless expression didn't change.

She sighed and walked in, approaching him cautiously; I could only guess that she already knew he used to kill people.

"Yeh know, yeh don't 'ave to look like that all the time," She stated, coming around the chair to sit down on the floor beside it. "I'd be 'as 'appy as could be if I was you."

"Why not?" Sweeney finally spoke in that rough, growly voice of his. "I can now name two people who ruined my life."

"Oi, I did not ruin your life," Grandma glared up at him. "An' even so, I ruined your afterlife. Not your life."

"At least you're taking the blame," Sweeney retorted lowly.

Now my grandmother looked particulary irritated. Her eyes travelled up the chair until they caught sight of the barber's gloved hand that was hanging over the armrest and still rather loosely holding the razor.

With a small, mischievous smirk, she quietly rose back to her feet. Then, almost fast enough to match the Demon Barber's speed, she grabbed the razor right out of his hand.

Sweeney snapped his head in her direction immediately, a look of mild shock on his face. He then looked up to meet her eyes with a death glare as soon as he had comprehended what she had just done. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Ignoring his question, she took a few paces away from the chair, lifting the blade up into the light and eyeing it curiously. "Wha' 'tis it 'bout these things that yeh find so fascinatin'?"

Ignoring her question, Sweeney stood up to glower at her angrily, his fists clenched at his sides. "Give. It. Back."

His voice was icy cold, looking to intimidate. But Grandma didn't seem all that fazed.

I must admit: I even recoiled a bit.

So young, and yet so fearless.

"Why?" She questioned.

Sweeney straightened up when she finally turned to face him, making himself look even taller than he already was. "It doesn't matter why. I'd suggest you listen to me, girl." When she had no response, he advanced on her.

Probably thinking she could outwit him, Grandma darted to her left.

Sweeney shot after her, a murderous gleam in his eyes.

It being so dark, she didn't have to run far before she collided with the nearby desk. Sweeney had her pinned in an instant. He only needed one arm to hold both of her's in place, and used his other hand to grab the razor from her.

She still didn't look very frightened by this. She instead smirked up at him. "See? I'll tell yeh now: All yeh needed was a little get-up-an'-go. I'll 'ave to snatch your razors more often."

Sweeney snorted and stood up straight again, looking over the razor he had just got back with careful eyes. "If you do so much as think about it, I'll have your head, girl." He glared down at her.

"Sounds fair enough." She agreed to this threat, rolling her eyes.

Still being back-down on the desk, she lifted both her hands to grab onto his arm and pull herself up.

I took it she had no respect for boundaries; I knew for a fact that Sweeney set up tons of them.

Sweeney barely budged when she did this though, as if he didn't even feel the pressure on his arm. But he did look a little flustered afterwards.

"So," Grandma strolled back over to the window. "This bein' my place now an' all, what yeh say to a little redecoration around 'ere? Some gillyflowers - daises maybe, by the window. Some new paint, eh?"

"No," Sweeney stated immediately, a darker look travelling across his face, like he heard this once before and it only displeased him more to hear it said again. "It is fine the way it is. It always has been, and it always will be."

"I'll bet it was," She frowned at him, despite her smooth tone. "Love, y'know I-"

"Don't call me that," Sweeney interrupted, his eyes coldly flaring with hatred for that seemingly harmless pet name.

Grandma backed off and crossed her arms, more so intending to hold them to her chest as though she caught some chill in the air. "Don't get yourself all worked up, dear. I jus'-"

"Nor that," He snapped, taking a step forward. "I've heard enough."

"But I've 'ardly been in 'ere for more than five minutes!" Grandma exclaimed. "Don't yeh wanna 'ear my thoughts? We've got a lot to-"

"No!" Sweeney shouted, whipping out the razor from his holster so fast that Grandma practically rammed herself into the wall with such a forceful jump back. "This will never work out, girl, so go back downstairs - leave me in peace!"

Grandma only held a glare for a few moments. Then she sped for the door and, once out, slammed it behind her.

Sweeney was still left growling at her back, his razor limply hanging from his right gloved hand. "Bloody girl..."

I woke up with a frown in the morning, wondering why I'd ever be left with that. Sweeney never even spoke to me like that.

Obviously, he and Grandma made up...

Sighing, I got off the sofa and came to the recently repaired window, frowning as I pulled back the curtains and noticed what looked like egg yolk - and tiny pieces of the shell - frozen to the outside. Probably from Halloween, which only made me angrier.

"Assholes..."

This building should be respected. I honestly don't care what anyone says.

It was entirely beyond me why Grandma never cleaned it off. Though there was a nagging part of my mind that said she was too sluggish over the time of our absence to get anything done.

Did Sweeney act the same way when we were gone?

Shrugging to my own question that would obviously never get an answer, I turned away, my eyes only briefly grazing Sev and his sleeping figure on the floor as I padded out of the room.

It was a chilly morning in London, evidently. I grabbed the door frame and spun around it on my way outside to trot up the stairs, suddenly realizing how much I identified with my surroundings. It felt pretty good to reside somewhere that wasn't really your home, but very much felt like your second one, at least.

I reached the top of the stairs quick and pushed open the barbershop door, finding Sweeney standing by the window with one arm up by the pane. I saw his eyes snap in my direction, then turn back to their previous position that was overlooking the rooftops of the various shops across the street and beyond.

"Good morning," I chirped, strolling up to his chair and placing my hands on the armrest to lean across it. I was getting ready to ask how he was, but... I think I already knew the answer to that.

Instead of giving absolutely no response or making a mere sound of acknowledgement to my presence, Mr. Todd swiveled his head around at me, completely silent.

I tilted my head. "Is everything alright?"

He numbly nodded his head, still saying nothing, and then faced the window again.

I continued to stare at him though, knowing there was something wrong.

And there was.

"Okay, okay," I leaned against the pane myself, offering a gentle smile. "Spew it."

Sweeney only turned his head further to the right, away from me. But he did say something. "Why aren't you downstairs?"

I felt my shoulders sagging. "Is that the problem?"

"No," He blinked back a little anger, by the looks of it. Then he carried on with a certain darkness to his inflection. "But if you want Geoffrey to-"

"Oh, I don't think he knows I come up here all the time," I cut him off, which led to a particulary dirty look from the barber. "If anyone's in danger right now, it's the three downstairs."

"Mm, right," I could tell he was being sarcastic in an instant. "Much better."

"So what is your problem?" I questioned, ignoring his snarky comment. "You look... low."

"You always say that," Mr. Todd pointed out, his voice level.

"Not the dark low. But... the sad sort of low."

"I didn't know there was a difference," He murmured, still eyeing the street below with no interest whatsoever.

"The sad low makes you look like a lost puppy. The dark low makes you look like a hungry wolf," I was disbelieving at first - really - at how deadpan I sounded when I said that. I may have even had Sweeney beat on that one.

I figured he wasn't listening - that he zoned me out already. But I think he picked up on the "hungry wolf" bit, because he rolled his eyes.

"So... what've you got to say to that?" I tried again.

Like I mentioned a while ago, I'm... not all that good at comforting people. It was never left in the hands of me to reassure many, as I'm the youngest in my family. There'd be times where Seville would come to me for advice, in which I'd simply brush it off with a bright smile and simply say it would be fine and not to worry.

I'm better at offering the notion of "I think you'll be fine, so quit worrying". Either that, or I'd try to get some sort of different remark or action out of them that'd cancel out the odd behavior. In Sweeney's case... a pissed off look would suffice.

But on the contrary to my hopes of him giving me some sort of glare to show me his old self hadn't completely vanished, I could see Sweeney swallowing down a lump in his throat. His jaw tightened as he turned away from the window to a full, not letting me see his face now.

My heart was thumping in my chest a little harder. I could hear the despair in my own voice as I tried to keep my words even. "What's wrong?" When he didn't reply, I continued, nervous. "You're freaking me out, you know? Can you just speak?"

"No," His voice wavered slightly, and I was beginning to piece together why he didn't want me to hear him right now, let alone see him. "Just go, Valerie. I need to think."

I edged across the room and eased around him, peering at his shadowed face as I passed. He was gazing down at the floor, the stuck out strands of black hair that hung in front of his forehead bouncing slightly for every time he trembled. His dark-rimmed eyes were rapidly travelling the length of the floor, shakily observing each long plank of wood that made it up to seemingly no end.

A single thought crossed my mind.

He's losing it.

Uh-oh. I think all dedicated Sweeney Todd fans know what that means...

Or... maybe not.

Well, if you consider what I said about Sweeney's whole angsty problem in the last author's note, you can probably guess correctly what his problem is right now.

I don't want to say any more than that. I just want the next few chapters to play out with, I'm hoping, smoothness.

Thank you to Queenoftheworldintraining for reviewing! And... I know I didn't mention you guys in the past few chapters - my newer reviewers: Leyshla Gisel, Ivory Enigma, How-About-A-Shave, and music is life 99 xxx. Thank you all. :3