A nimble little girl of five dashed into the sunlit parlour of the small house on the outskirts of Brighton, squealing happily. Her hair was a flaming red bush of curls, her disposition as lively as her mother's and as fiery as their hair; however, she had inherited her father's dark piercing eyes.

"I'm gonna get you!" her mother's voice followed her from outside.

"Papa's back!" the girl exclaimed in return and sprinted towards the man she'd noticed sitting in one of the armchairs.

"Hello, my little flower!" Sweeney laughed as he leaned forward to capture the excited girl in his arms. When he tenderly hugged his daughter, he could feel the ends of her hair still dripping from her earlier venture into the sea. "Did you have a good time at the beach?" he enquired, looking into his daughter's shining eyes, absolutely identical to his own.

Rose nodded her head enthusiastically. "I 'ad a marvellous time! Mama took me this deep into the briny," she pointed at her hip, "an' we found the most wonderful seashells on the shore!"

Sweeney's eyes grew wider with delight. "Will you show me, my love?" he asked.

Little Rose jumped up and down in joy. "Sure, papa!" And she rushed out of her father's loose embrace and back into the hallway she'd come from. "Mama found the biggest one I've ever seen!"

She disappeared from view and a moment later was replaced in the doorway by another redhead. Nellie was panting; she came forward and leaned heavily against the back of another armchair. "I swear," she grumbled, "that child'll be the death of me."

Sweeney chuckled with amusement and stood up, walked over to the woman exhausted from quite probably racing their child up to the house, and put his arms around his wife's waist. And he was reminded of another time they had stood in this exact same place.

Nellie dropped her basket full of groceries on the coffee table and perched herself on the armrest of the armchair nearest to the door. "That child'll be the death of me," she sighed, pressing her hand to her aching back, the other one around her round stomach.

"He gets it from his father," Sweeney commented with a low chuckle, crossing their new parlour to where his wife was sitting. He placed his hands over her abdomen and felt a vigorous movement under his fingers.

Nellie turned her head to the side, and Sweeney noticed an evasive look of misery on her face. "What's the matter, my sweet?" he asked softly.

Nellie gave a faint sigh and closed her eyes. Belatedly and with an enormous amount of reluctance she said, "I guess I ought to tell you. I've been puttin' it off for ever so long."

Sweeney lifted his hand from its place on his wife's dress and touched his fingertips to her chin, gently guiding her to face him. "Tell me what's bothering you," he whispered and studied Nellie's anxious eyes.

"I… I'm not sure that you are 'is father," she confided in a hushed tone. They had been married for three months now and not once during that time had Sweeney lost his temper. However, he felt both disappointed and guilt-ridden, finding wariness in Nellie's eyes. Most of the time she was her usual high-spirited self; on rare occasions, however, the delicate, fearful side of her would briefly surface. "What if… What if it's a baby Bamford?"

Sweeney gritted his teeth, his expression hardened. He couldn't stand hearing that bastard's name. "No," he said firmly, unconsciously leaning closer to his wife. "It is going to be a Todd toddler," he declared with a perfectly straight face, in an attempt to convince both Nellie and himself of his words.

"It can't be that bad," Sweeney mentioned.

"You try runnin' after the little devil once in a while," she shot back with irritated vigour although there was a merry glint in her bright blue eyes.

"I wouldn't dream of depriving you of this pleasure," Sweeney said with a wry smile, pulling his wife closer to him. "I'm saving up my energy for something else," he murmured warmly.

"Are you now?" Nellie asked with a coquettish smirk and melted into his embrace. Sweeney replied with a deep hum of confirmation and seized her lips in an ardent kiss.

At the same moment their daughter's lilting voice called from outside, "Mama! Papa! Come look at all my seashells!"

With notable effort Sweeney pulled back from the delicious temptation that was his wife and was pleased to see a dreamy, sensual look in her eyes. After placing his hand on the small of Nellie's back and exchanging a knowing grin with her, Sweeney Todd led his wife out of their house and onto the beach.

The End