Disclaimer: I do not own the characters involved in the musical Sweeney Todd, I only write as a fan and future director in that these characters inspired me greatly. My 'Lovett' and 'Sweeney' are primarily based off of the fantastic portrayals as given by the cast in the 2005 Broadway revival: Patti Lupone and Michael Cerveris. If when you read, you expect to see the action of the play, think again, there is more. Enjoy!
Prologue:
Fleet St. A pair of yellow eyes glanced upon the sign. With its four legs, the black cat sauntered across the pavement, every step designated and predicted. The cat leaned against the brick façade before the entrance to the Barber shop. There seemed to be not a breath of wind in the night air, nor a light from the moon, which stood in hiding from the deluge of suspicion as warned by the stars around it. The cat tiptoed its way towards the tall ash cans behind the shop, where it could almost always smell remnants of crusted, overcooked or raw meat pies. Only nowadays, this meat was more sumptuous and savory than any other meat the cat had fondled deeply with its tongue. The cat set its blistered paws upon the can, scratching the tin. With little effort, it found itself atop the grey tower, staring down below like a god staring into a deep sea. Behind the cat, and only slightly beyond its reach, stood the crooked window leading into the back room, where the smell was always the strongest. The cat hoisted up to the ledge, and in squeezing tight beneath the open vent, fell onto a bag of flour and made its way towards the table.
A single candle remained lit with oil on the corner of the table. Amongst the piles of dough and flour were odd objects, long thin knives, sheers and a razor. Abandoned it seemed, a mess unlikely to be ignored by a shopkeeper if work was to be continued in the morning.
It was only then the cat heard a faint sound of mortals in the room above. Not just one voice, but two it seemed. A man…a woman. Perhaps the barber and the baker. The cat leapt atop the chair leading to the table, staring up the staircase leading above. Sounds from above, soft sounds, like whispering or mumbling.
The cat stood close to the flaming candle, staring into the mesmerizing flicker with all of the attention of a convict staring at a guillotine. It took a step too close, grazing its back leg against the candlestick. The candlestick tumbled to the floor, pouring the oil onto a bag of flour. The cat's back arched high and a tingling hiss emitted from between its yellow teeth.
Nellie Lovett's eyes closed and her thighs tightened around the barbers legs. She felt his teeth in her neck, pinching her skin, thrilling her more than she ever expected. Than again, it was him. Him: Benjamin Barker, in her arms and not in the long dead Lucy's. Benjamin Barker or Sweeney Todd, whatever he was to the world. As much as it brought her closer, Nellie winced as the barber's cold hands paced across her body. Nellie lied back, fearing that one budge would break his focus. The scars were there, of course, lines across his body from God knows what, whatever it was they made him do in Australia. She traced them with her fingertips, biting her tongue hard. Sweeney lifted his head, breathing deeply.
What is it, love? She whispered.
Don't you smell that? He replied, lifting himself from her breast. She too breathed deep, but could smell nothing but the scent of gin and coriander on his breath. Ignoring his whims, Nellie pulled him back to her hips.
No, I hear something! Sweeney said, pushing Nellie away and sending her leaning off the side of the bed. He did hear it now, louder than before. Flames, like in his dreams, loud and trembling. The door was warm. He pushed the door open.
Nellie screamed as smoke enveloped the barber as he ran into the kitchen. Sweeney made way across the kitchen, into the front of the shop, running towards the water basin in the front, where Nellie often served customers ale or water according to their wish. He hoisted one of her mixing bowls onto his arm and filled it quickly. Nellie emerged, sputtering for air. The bowl got passed and they ran in pursuit of the fire.
The black cat cowered in the corner, slowly searing to ashes in the burning flour.