A/N:Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, once again. :) I unfortunately have a horrid cold right now, which is lovely since I'm off for two weeks from school. So I'll just be hacking up my lungs, instead of going outside. Not that I would, though, there's still like a foot of snow outside. Anyways, yeah I babble, and I'll shut up and write this chapter
Much thanks to my new beta, MrsPiccolosWife, who, even before helping me, had always given me a straight opinion on my chapters. Much much gratitude to you :)
Chapter Nine
Nellie Lovett hadn't always loved the sea. In fact, when she was a young thing, she had grown to loathe it: dirty sand getting between her toes, the sun licking at her shoulders, making them burn. And of course, the myriad of happy families expressing delight in the vast blue waters, splashing, laughing, enjoying each others company. Any public act of humble love between relatives could make the young baker swell with jealousy, however, having no family but her aging grandfather to come home to each evening.
Her parents and brother had perished in a house fire when she was six, and Nellie had been relaxing in the beaches when the tragedy occurred. For years she was angered by the mere thought of the seaside or anything relating to it, as she blamed the waters for their death. The child knew it was foolish to accuse the wonders of the sea banks of serious incidents such as the passing of her family but Nellie thought that, perhaps, if she hadn't been walking along the shore on that August afternoon, she could have saved her loved ones from the hated flames.
Even though the memories pained her greatly, every Sunday as her grandfather attended the morning's mass, young Eleanor White, soon to be Mrs. Nellie Lovett, would slyly seat herself on the backside of a carriage that was headed in the direction of the docks. As the cab was passing the piers of the English Channel, Miss White would promptly leap off of the buggy and spend her morning looking out at the waves. The tides calmed her as they lapped at the shores, and the robotic breezy sighs omitting from the waters soothed her, made her forget about the grieving and loss.
Eleanor White, despite her youth, was a fierce little lady, being loud and ruthlessly stubborn ever since birth. She was a child of striking red curls and fair skin, taking the Irish traits of her mother. Miss White was surely the first to firmly shake the hand of someone new to the small town of Norbury, and would flash them the brightest of smiles, her large brown eyes always alight with wonder and curiosity. One couldn't have guessed that her family had perished recently as Eleanor passed, offering them a cheery wave and a nice, "Skies are mighty blue today, ain't they?"
Grandpa White, many assumed, was what kept the sparkle in the girl's eye.
Alexander White was a bald, slender man of sixty, complete with large ears and a toothy smile. Fortunately, he had taken Eleanor in as his own, after the fire, saving the girl from the horrors of London's orphanages and workhouses. He was a gentle, quiet man, very protective of his granddaughter. Alexander was grateful to have the little bugger around, having been a widow who's life was centered around keeping a quaint pastry shoppe, 'White's Delights'.
"Me grandfather's England's finest baker," little Eleanor would exclaim with wide eyes, throwing her hands in the air and stomping her foot, "I reckon 'is pastries are from heaven itself!" Miss White would often attract the business of White's Delights, placing herself in the front of his shop when she wasn't at the docks.
Almost a year having passed since the loss of her family, Eleanor sat herself atop her usual stool in the front of the pastry shop, watching her Grandpa White close up for the day.
"Ya wanna know somethin', Grandfather?" she inquired, grasping the sides of the cushioned stool with petite, pale hands.
The elderly man, sweeping near the doorway, gave her a small smile. "You're going to put something on those feet of yours?"
Eleanor quickly glanced down at her bare feet which she had been swinging casually in the air from the height of the stool. "I don't like shoes," she snapped indignantly, swiftly tucking her legs and feet underneath herself, her blue dress hiding them from sight.
Alexander stopped sweeping, placed two hands on the top of his broom stick and chuckled. Facing her now, he stood patiently. "Well then, what is it?"
Miss Eleanor White lifted her chin, giving him a valiant stare from behind her lashes. "One day, I'm gonna be the best baker in London! Better than you, even!"
Her grandfather raised two graying eyebrows, looking pleased. "I knew you'd follow my footsteps," he told her, his words shy.
"You better believe it!" the redhead peeped, hopping down from her stool to take the broom from him. "Now, go an' sit down, let me do this. Tomorrow we're goin' to the seaside, like ya said, right? You should prepare yourself wiv a good night's sleep!"
Grandpa White swiped a wild curl behind Eleanor's ear with a smile, and she hugged his middle before watching the bashful man leave wordlessly up the stairs. The aspiring baker finished sweeping the shop, humming a flighty tune as she twirled her dress in time with the beats in her head.
Miss Eleanor whistled the same euphony with a delightful ease the next morning, bounding down to the sea banks, reddish curls bouncing on her shoulders, dressed in her prim green bathing dresses.
"Isn't this smashing, Grandfather?" she drawled loudly over her shoulder, stopping at the edge of the tide, the cold water kissing the tips of her toes.
"Quite," Alexander called back, sitting himself politely on an empty bench.
Refraining from rolling her eyes at her skittish elder, Eleanor took a bold step into the icy water, laughing in spite of the shiver down her back. "Quite indeed," she retorted proudly, more to herself. She took a few more steps into the water before turning to the left to walk along the edge, the navy waves reaching her knees now.
And then, a sharp, prickling pain shot through her right foot, making her yelp in pain. "Ah! Blasted shells," she grumbled, taking a larger step away, watching her steps carefully now. Not a moment later, Eleanor was greeted with a larger pinch of biting pain on the heel of her foot, and she swung her foot away from the area, leaping onto the warm sand. Sitting, she looked at her now throbbing foot, running small fingers over the back of it to find nothing there at all.
A tickle began to form in the back of her throat, growing more intense with each breath, with each pulsing ache of her foot, until she began to cough harshly. Eleanor's throat was searing now and she tried to stand, tried to move to her grandfather.
"Grandpa!" she mouthed, her voice barely there, and she grasped at her neck with her petite hands.
"Mrs. Lovett," a voice snapped at her, filling her with a great puzzlement that coated her pain.
Eleanor, though she couldn't hear her own voice, managed to shoot back, insulted by the strange assumption that she was married, and she found herself unable to move.
The husky voice again shot at her, using the inappropriate name. Much to her dislike, she began to shake a little, roughly.
Her vision smeared and only in hues now, she frowned, troubled and afraid. "Don't call me that!" she demanded, not liking it at all.
Eleanor then heard her name, and she fell--so soft, so young, so lost...
Sweeney Todd knew he had put too much gin on her gash when Mrs. Lovett sent a flying foot in the direction of his head. He dodged it, barely, glaring at the distraught baker as she jerked a little in her fitful slumber. Her eyes were shut tightly, her face full of agony and confusion, coughing.
"Mrs. Lovett," he grunted, not appreciating being kicked at when he was trying to dress her wound, a selfless, rare act for the barber.
She mumbled something having to do with 'not being married to an ugly butcher' and cried out, placing a frail hand on her throat.
Slightly annoyed rather than concerned, Todd leaned over to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Mrs. Lovett," he repeated, loudly now, wishing she would wake. He shook her a little, frustrated.
"Don't call me that!" the baker shot very clearly now, her voice ringing with disapproval.
Todd stopped shaking her, tired of fighting with her. Impatiently almost, he leaned his face closer to hers. "Nellie."
Her eyes shot open.
Nellie Lovett, no longer the carefree Eleanor White, gazed dumbfounded into a pair of beautiful eyes, black eyes. She soon drowned in the depths of them, not knowing it, and caught her breath, not daring to avert her stare. They were eyes swirling with a restless exhaustion, tinged with pain and regret, sparking eerily in the dark as they reflected the moonlight. Only partly with herself now, Nellie tried not to blink, wanting to hold onto this moment for a lifetime, to remember how grippingly alluring the bleak eyes were, making her feel almost coquettish.
In a snap the moment was broken and the beholder shifted abruptly away, startling her. Trying to grasp at her surroundings, Nellie blinked, cringing as she sat up, her throat on fire. The figure with the bleak eyes was now turned from her, staring keenly out a broken window.
Sighing in relief, Nellie leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed from being snagged out of past memories. "Where are we, Mr. T?" she croaked, immediately regretting having opened her mouth as the tickling itch arrived in her throat again, making her cough.
Sweeney Todd, frazzled, clasped his hands tightly behind his back and continued to glare out into the night. "The house you spoke of." His voice was so deep, so low. Before she could react, he glanced with those alluring eyes over his shoulder before turning back. "Don't speak, woman."
Not daring to on account of the agony pounding away as she swallowed, Nellie nodded faintly and opened her eyes so they would adjust to the dark. Still foggy, Mr. Todd's words echoed in the back of her head.
The house I spoke of? Couldn't he be more specific?
However, as the darkness lifted a little and the edges of the room settled and became more apparent, a wave of nostalgia washed over Nellie.
The walls were jaggedly singed and cracked, parts of it broken up and crumbling. There was no door, only a large opening in the back that looked like it led to the rest of the house. Pieces of wood, cloth, and glass were scattered throughout the room, a fine layer of ash seeming to coat the room like snow.
Her old bedroom.
She had told Mr. Todd that she knew of a place that no one occupied, no one would look into, no one cared about. Nellie had passed it a year or so ago on her way to the large market down south with Toby, something she had planned on making a nice place to get away to, and she'd perhaps tell the boy of Norbury, of a little girl who used to live there. When they had passed this abandoned, broken down house, however, Nellie found herself wanting to never see it again.
So she had told Mr. Todd of this place, of his house that no one cared for. It had, of course, burned halfway down more than twenty years ago.
Something shifted beside her and Nellie looked to the right, a troubled Toby sleeping beside her, his cap on his chest, one arm covering his eyes. Furrowing her brow, she brushed her fingers against the cushioned material they were laying on, gripping what seemed to be a scorched mattress.
This sickly sensation of feeling ill was new and foreign to Nellie as she forced herself up into a sitting position, her foot twitching with pain again. She looked ahead of her, seeing her right foot bare and bleeding, a cracked bottle of gin on the floor below it, along with a grayish rag.
Faintly amused, the baker shifted her glance to the perturbed Sweeney Todd who was standing rigidly at the window, hiding his face from her. "Again yer 'elping me, Mr. Todd?"
Todd grunted something under his breath, reaching up to scratch his nose before turning his hands behind his back. "I told you not to speak."
Nellie's mouth fell into a thin line and she looked down at her loose black dress, the soreness of her back and limbs constricting her from getting out of bed. She, too, had assumed that he would be able to push back the grief and move on after the death of Judge Turpin. Todd's discomfort made her squirm a little and Nellie reached forward to her foot, deciding to distract herself by finishing his work.
Yet as she pulled forward, the motion forced herself to suck in a broken breath and she wheezed once more, falling back. Two gloved hands were placed on top of her face and she coughed a moan.
The creak of the ashy floorboards told her that Mr. Todd had moved from his position at the window, and Nellie looked between her fingers, her brown eyes settling upon the barber who was hesitating in front of her.
"Wot?" Mrs. Lovett yowled, not feeling up to his teasing.
Sweeney kept a firm glare on her feet, making sure to keep a distance before snarling a garbled, "Just reminding myself to be cautious."
She snickered, dropping her hands, his wary stature comical to Nellie and Todd frowned, kneeling again. He snatched the rag and gin, not waiting to pour the searing alcohol onto her cut, hastily dabbing at it with cloth.
Nellie seethed in through her teeth before shutting her mouth, knowing that her Mr. Todd was trying to help. His face screwed up in concentration and the room fell very silent as he wrapped the rag around her foot, tying a hasty knot to keep it in place. He looked up for a moment before averting his gaze back to the ground, standing. "Be careful next time you're running from the police," he mumbled, serious.
The aching baker rolled her eyes and let out a little breath. "Will do, Mr. T..." She studied the pale man now, raising her eyebrow and giving him a critical look over. "What's troublin' ya, love?" she asked, her voice still very hoarse, "I assume the bloomin' Judge is all nice an' dead now, why aren't you celebrating?"
Mr. Todd shot her a piercing glare but Nellie didn't flinch, determined in their little staring match. "Jus' trying to help ya."
A small rustling from the back of the room brought them from their challenging muses and the duo glanced in the direction. A pile of wood and other rubbish shifted lightly beside the doorway and an uneasy squeak escaped Nellie's throat.
Sweeney was quick to whip out his razor, pointing it firmly in front of him, black eyes flashing. "Show yourself," he growled, pushing his exhaustion away as he inched towards the movement.
Much to their surprise and apprehension, the mysterious doorway growled back. Bewildered, Mr. Todd took a bold step forward. "I will not hesitate to--"
A small, ferocious looking black kitten lept from beneath the wood and charged at Sweeney, hissing and tearing at the bottom of his trousers. The man had started back instinctively at first but now resorted to grimacing down at the tiny animal who was determined to cause him hassle. He groaned and attempted to lightly shake the cat off of him.
Nellie stifled a weary chuckle, relieved, and raised a finger to point at Sweeney's miniature attacker. "Look, dear, it's a little you!" she declared quietly, and Mr. Todd looked closer to see the fur of the cat's tail was a streak of white. He grunted, looking sheepish, and managed to nudge the feisty thing off his leg.
The kitten let out a small mew of defiance and jumped onto Nellie's mattress, dodging between her arms to hide itself under Toby's hat that was still laying upon his chest. Young Ragg didn't wake.
Sweeney Todd was not very pleased as the baker fell into a fit of throaty giggles, running her hands through her messy crimson curls.
"What is so titillating, Mrs. Lovett?" he snapped, reluctantly placing his razor back into the holster.
"Ah, dear, you gotta laugh once in a while, it's only healthy," she stated breezily, turning to Tobias. "Hun, wake up," Nellie cooed, nudging the boy gently, kissing his forehead.
Foggy blue eyes opening slowly, Toby stretched and cleared his throat. In an instant he sat up, clutching Nellie's arm, alarmed. "Mum, why are you sittin' up like this, you're gonna strain yourself," he scolded quietly, but the disgruntled meow of a ball of fur from below made Toby jump and he anxiously peered down at his hat which had fallen onto the floor. "Why is there a cat in me cap?" he questioned, trying to wake up.
Nellie patted his back. "The churlish bugger has taken a liking to it. I wouldn't fuss with it, darlin', it's a snippy little thing."
Toby nodded, rubbing his eyes, placing his hand on her shoulder. "There's a teapot in the front, mum, want me ta see if I can make something of it?" She wouldn't be surprised if he sensed the need to leave the two adults alone.
Yawning, Nellie coughed a thank you, placing her own hand on top of his.The boy was gone in a few strides, the cat dashing after him.
Sweeney had a hard time averting his gaze from Mrs. Lovett, still standing before the mattress, his pale face dull with fatigue. He hadn't really watched the two of them together before, and Todd was startled that he hadn't noticed how close they seemed. Simple glances and jumbled words could get so many thoughts across between the baker and boy, and he stood, staring in a stunned stupor.
"What's so titillating, Mr. Todd?" Nellie questioned slowly, mocking his words, rubbing her temples.
Todd let out a huff through his nose and sat on the opposite side of the mattress, looking to the window, the sun slowly rising above the trees. "One would say that it's strange seeing vivid affection when they thought it didn't exist."
Her heart wrenching for him, Nellie frowned. He was always so bloody morbid. "Why would you think such a thing?"
Troubled, Todd shook his head, placing his face in his hands. "I'm just confused, don't fret."
Clucking her tongue, Nellie reached out to place a small hand on his arm. "Lay down for a little while. Rest your eyes."
Her hand was so warm as it lingered on his skin, Sweeney fighting the urge to lean into the warmth. Instead he gave her a defeated nod, wanting to clear his mind, and spread out beside her, discontented face trying to settle.
Pleased and surprised to say the least, Nellie leaned forward and placed her lips to his temple. "Sleep well, my love."
Sweeney mumbled something about 'just resting his eyes' and he fell into a deep slumber, lines of worry and agitation melting from his sleeping face.
A/N: I tried to make this longer as I felt like I've been slacking on length lately. Do tell me your thoughts on this chapter and review :)