Todd sat at the back of his old shop. He hadn't bothered to try finding a bed or anything of such; he simply sat in a small wooden chair he had found outside. His thoughts trudged along in his head and he felt a great echoing silence of Lucy' absence.
He could still smell Lucy in the air and swore he could see her form in the dust that crept through the air. His Lucy was dead... His daughter might as well have been dead and Sweeney shuddered to think of her in the care of that monster! He didn't like Mrs Lovett's plan of waiting and gathering customers, but he admitted he needed money and a way to get to the judge...and everyone came to a good barber for a shave... He sighed and imagined Lucy the way she was before he had been ripped away from her, playing with the baby on the floor, teasing him about silly things. How happy they had been! And Turpin ruined it all! Gritting his teeth he leaned his elbows on his knees and plotted his revenge. All good barbers knew how to make a perfect cut, where to trim and where to leave, or, in pulling a tooth, how to grip and what angle to tug. And Sweeney was the best. It was all in calculating where to put the scissors or razor or extractor. And Erik was a tooth he could leave alone for now, but would undoubtedly have to be pulled later.
Sweeney twirled one of his razors around his fingers. The old razor he had been carrying since Australia lay forgotten on the far table. He didn't need it anymore, now that he had his friends back. He felt an odd sense of fear. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should not be hearing the voices of these friends, but he couldn't stop listening to them. He understood that this was most likely simply insanity and trauma speaking, instead of the cool silver running like silk beneath his finger tips...but he liked these voices; they comforted him now that Lucy was not there when he needed her, to hold him and kiss away the pain.
No, thinking of Lucy too much was a bad thing, as was fearing the reality of how insane he really had become-they were weakening him against the revenge he knew he had to have, for Lucy, for Johanna, and for himself. He suddenly felt old and very alone. Tired. How long had it been since he'd actually slept?
He thought about the girl, Erik's girl...Christine. Sweeney had actually not gotten a good look at her, as she had pulled so far into the hood of her cloak as to only show a few whisps of dark blonde hair and a flash of very pale skin. He hadn't thought to ask Erik for a description, but he knew he would recognize the boy if he saw him again.
Sweeney highly doubted her husband wanted to keep her in the city itself, but it was possible they were on the outskirts, perhaps in a small house, if the boy was noble-born as Erik had described and Sweeney had observed. Given the girl's condition, they would need a small degree of isolation. A new home buyer was surely to be the subject of some gossip in the square, particularly if that home buyer had a raving woman with him. That was providing that Christine wasn't in an asylum and her husband in hiding. He'd find out tomorrow....
"You know, love," Mrs. Lovett said as they walked, "You might have better luck blending in if you lose the mask and dress as a beggar. Most of them have deformities, so you'll…" Erik grabbed her by the elbow roughly. She yelped as he squeezed until he felt her bones shift.
"I will never show my face. Was once on display and found it quite disagreeable. I would like very much to keep from repeating the experience, madam," he growled.
"I was just suggesting, is all! No need to get all cross!" she snarled, yanking her arm from his grasp. "And besides, you've never even let us see it, so how should I be knowing how bad it would even be? For all we know you just have a bad sunburn!" Erik reached for her again, but Sweeney gently pulled Mrs. Lovett back, as if gathering an angry cat.
"Stay here, Erik. Mrs. Lovett and I have business," he said simply. Erik glared at Mrs. Lovett, who stuck her tongue out at him. Erik hung back, fading into the shadows of the alleyway as they walked away, pulling the brim of his felt hat down. He was seriously considering killing the woman as well as Sweeney.
They walked into the square, Mrs Lovett rubbing her arm and sulking. The caravan was almost absurd in its flamboyancy, with a brightly painted sign reading Signor Adolfo Pirelli- Haircutter – Barber – Toothpuller to His Royal Majesty The King of Naples! BANISH BALDNESS WITH PIRELLI'S MIRACLE ELIXIR!
"Is that him? That's sickening!" Sweeney growled.
"Every Thursday and yes, that's him. He's an Italian, he is," Mrs. Lovett answered, "All the rage these days." Sweeney shrugged and they continued on closer to the caravan, where a small crowd was gathering. Suddenly, the sound of a drum began behind the curtain, as a young boy, maybe ten or twelve, parted the curtains.
"Ladies and gents!" he called to the crowd, "I have a miracle here! We promise you the most wondrous thing you have ever encountered in all your days on this earth! I was bald as an egg one day, ill I was! But Pirelli's Miracle Elixir fixed that right on up! As you can see here!" He whipped his hat off, revealing a mane of blonde hair. Sweeney huffed; it was fake, although no one else in the audience seemed to notice. As the boy continued on, Mrs. Lovett suddenly tugged on Sweeney's arm.
"Beadle Bamford! We should go!" she hissed in his ear. He turned to her and shook his head.
"We have business here, Mrs. Lovett. Business we will conduct," he replied, nonchalantly.
"Only a penny a bottle, my friends! Marvelous rare miracle it is! You'll be prettier, handsomer, popular, and sweeter for it, sir! Come now, sir!" the boy continued, splashing a bit on his hand and rubbing it into a customer's bald head. Todd politely asked a customer if he could see his newly purchased bottle, uncorking it. The sour smell of ammonia and something oddly chemical hit him with stunning force.
"Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful smell?" he asked loudly to Mrs. Lovett. Mrs. Lovett wrinkled her nose, obviously hit by the smell as well.
"Oh, my, did the privies back up?" she cried as loudly as she could. Todd saw the boy freeze onstage. He forced the bottle under Mrs. Lovett's nose.
"Good heavens! Oh Lord!" she shrieked, pushing his hand away. Back in the alley, Erik thought of shoving the whole bottle down her throat. It was a pleasant thought.
"This is piss," Todd announced, raising his bottle and taking another cursory look at the contents, "With ink in it to disguise the color." Other customers froze, almost simultaneously uncorking their own bottles and smelling. A few people actually dropped theirs and one woman vomited. The boy was backing up towards the curtains, still feebly continuing his pitch.
"Pirelli's Elixir can stimulate the growth the way…uh…it can make the roots grow like daisies…" he whimpered. The crowd descended on him, demanding their money back. The boy looked in panic towards the curtain, but Pirelli did not appear.
"Sir! Signor Pirelli!" the boy cried frantically. Finally, the curtains parted and the man who stepped out was even more absurd than his cart. He struck a pose, his blue and white dandy-suit embroidered with sequins flashing as much as possible on the drab, overcast day. Against the background of dreary London and her people, he looked like a blue-jay surrounded by brown toads. Todd suppressed a chuckle. Back in the alley, Erik laughed low in his throat. With a flourish, Pirelli produced an ornate razor and a tooth-extractor.
"I am Signor Pirelli and who dares to say my elixir is piss?" the flamboyant fop asked, his thick Italian accent rendering him nearly unintelligible. But something was wrong with his speech, Erik could plainly hear. Ubaldo Piangi back home had been Italian and sounded different from this man. This man sounded like Carlotta did when she was trying to affect a different accent than her own. Oh, this was interesting!
"I do!" Todd shouted, "I have opened a bottle of your "elixir" and have found that it is merely colored piss! You, sir, are a fraud!" The crowd gasped at his bold statement and, out of the corner of his eye, Todd noticed Bamford's attention had been grabbed. Pirelli grabbed the boy and shoved him forward.
"Pay no ear to this madman! He is merely jealous of the splendid skill of Pirelli!" the boy shouted, his voice wavering nervously. "Who is up for a shave from the best barber in all the world?"
"My name is Sweeney Todd and I have serviced no kings, no celebrities, no greater men than those among you, and unlike some, I have no need to distract you from my small amount of talent with pretty augmentations!" Todd continued. Mrs. Lovett crowed with laughter and the others in the crowd joined in. Erik, back in the shadows, had to admit they certainly had showman's skill. Pirelli was turning pastel-pink to go with the powder-blue of his suit.
"And what wager to you place, sir?" he asked, his voice still jolly for the crowd, but Erik could hear a cold edge to his voice even back from his vantage point. Todd took out his silver razors, holding them aloft. Erik saw something pass over Pirelli's face, something like recognition. It was gone so fast Erik almost dismissed it, until he noticed that now Pirelli was staring very hard at Sweeney. Something was wrong here. But Pirelli picked up the razors in turn, also revealing a tooth extractor in the box.
"I wager these against five pounds, Pirelli!" Todd challenged. Pirelli smiled nastily at him.
"You have a wager!" he announced with a grand gesture. "See now this man will see his folly! His failure shall be just another feather in the cap of the great Signor Pirelli!" Todd fought the urge to roll his eyes at the idiocy of it all. Pirelli ordered the young boy to bring out his chair, giving the boy a stout kick to the backside when he didn't move fast enough and a rough clout to the head when he stumbled pushing the heavy chair forward. Erik saw Mrs. Lovett flinch with sympathy and felt himself even feeling sorry for the boy; he remembered what it had been like to receive a beating for an unsatisfactory performance. Todd motioned to a few men, who brought out a chair for him.
"Who'd like a free shave?" Todd asked the audience. Several men clamoured for the chance on both sides. Once the customers were chosen, Todd and Pirelli turned to their audience.
"Beadle Bamford! What an honor to see you here! Will you do us the immense service of being our judge?" Todd asked. Beadle Bamford stepped forward, nodding his head politely to Todd and Pirelli each in turn. The boy provided basins and towels to both contenders, although he gave Pirelli the best of the two. The Beadle blew his whistle and the contest began…
As the whistle blew, Pirelli began stropping his razors with frantic strokes, where as Todd could have been conducting Mozart. Erik shook his head- Todd was playing with him. As he glaced across the square, bored and restless, Erik saw someone familiar… Oh, yes, very familiar! That wretched boy Raoul De Chagney was walking through the marketplace with his head down and a shopping basket. He was dressed a might less nicely than he had been when Erik last saw him and he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. The boy was nearly frantic with timidity, obviously frightened of his surroundings. Erik watched him pick his way through the marketplace. Sweeney could definitely find him later… Erik followed him.
Sweeney's world had shrunk to include only the Beadle, his customer, and his friends. He didn't notice Pirelli giving him paranoid glances as he began to mix lather, nor did Sweeney hear Pirelli's loud, obnoxious boasts about his skill. He didn't see Mrs. Lovett clasp her hands over her bosom in anticipation or the crowd bustling with excitement. No, he felt almost alone, his personal silence broken only by the soft rasp of his razor against the leather strop. No, he would not rush, for rushing would cause error. His friend, clasped gently in his hand, would tell him when it was ready…
Erik passed effortlessly through the crowd, years of practice avoiding contact without drawing attention causing him to slide through like water. Raoul was having more trouble. He bumped aimlessly into people, startling at the slightest touch. The basket was clutched to his chest and he looked pale and drawn. As Erik followed, he carefully observed his surroundings, to make she he would remember in case he came back this way, or in case he was discovered and needed to defend himself…or in case he indeed got the chance to Kill Raoul in the streets. Oh, he would not do it now! He had to find his Christine, his beautiful girl. He was so much closer now!
Todd listened closely to his friend, so gently speaking to him in the whispers of the leather strop. He was now another step nearer to his revenge, if he could ensnare Bamford. Beating Pirelli would be a matter of pride. At a word from his friend, he lathered, shaved, and wiped down his customer's face. The beadle blew his whistle.
"The winner is Todd!" Bamford cried. The crowd erupted in cheers, startling Sweeney just a little as he came out of his trance. Recovering, he invited several ladies up to check his work, to the delight of his customer. The ladies all stroked his face, oohing and ahhing at the feel.
"Oh, so smooth!" one cried. Mrs. Lovett stepped forward.
"Smooth as a baby's arse it is!" she announced. Pirelli deflated, staring at Sweeney in shock.
"Give the good man his five pounds!" Bamford ordered Pirelli. Pirelli produced a bright pastel pink purse with outlandish beaded embroidery, plucked five pounds out of it, and jammed it into Todd's hand.
"Until we meet again, signor," he said, a hint of snarl edging his voice. Todd gave him a charming smile. The Italian ducked into his caravan, throwing the boy ahead of him. Mrs Lovett cringed as the sound of an intense beating exploded from the carriage. Sweeney paid it no mind, this was not important to his plans.
Erik slid between more people, but he noticed the crowd was tapering off as they left the city. They were now on the outskirts. This was making Erik a little uneasy, for if the crowd lightened, Raoul would have a better chance of catching him. Even worse if he decided to take a cab! He could not lose his chance to find Christine! But, finally, Raoul arrived at a little house, some way off from its neighbors, still just outside the city. Raoul unlocked the door and ducked inside. Erik took note of the area and the address. He would come back when it was dark, his time.
A crowd had gathered around Sweeney, asking where his shop was, did he intend to stay in London, and would he take customers on which days?
"A bloody marvel you are, Mr. Todd!" Beadle Bamford exclaimed, pushing through the crowd. Mrs. Lovett twitched nervously next to him, but Todd smiled extravagantly.
"Oh, it is an honor to be judged by the wonderful Beadle Bamford! I've just come into town but yesterday and I've already heard of you!" he said sweetly. The Beadle smiled broadly.
"Where is your shop? For certainly you've impressed me today and I shall have to come calling." The Beadle inquired. Yes!
"Above my pie-shop on Fleet Street, sir Beadle," Mrs. Lovett said, a little too quickly for Sweeney's taste. He gripped her fingers so hard he felt her knuckles pop. To her credit, she remained smiling, but Sweeney sincerely hoped he would not have to kill her for ruining this chance. The Beadle made a note in a little notebook and smiled.
"Oh, I shall be seeing you before the week is out, and I have a client of power who might hear a recommendation from me, if you succeed in impressing me as such again!" he announced grandly. Todd fixed him with another smile, gently took Mrs. Lovett's arm and headed down the square again.
"If you can't stay steady, keep your mouth shut, woman!" he snarled as soon as they were out of earshot of the Beadle.
"Now, Mr. T, I didn't do nothing wrong! He's still charmed with you! Now, where's your coat-rack friend?" she sighed. Erik was indeed nowhere to be seen.
"He'll come back to the shop when he's done with whatever he's doing," Sweeney mumbled. Still, he needed to find the girl too, and he was sure Erik had discovered a way, if he was going to venture out in London in midday. He was also sure that if Erik did find her, he would not share this information with Sweeney. Also, finding the girl kept up with the façade that he would help Erik and he needed to keep Erik in his fold for now.
"Excuse me, madam, but I'm looking for my brother. He's run away with a young woman with blonde hair, who I am not sure is entirely suited to him," he asked the vendor Mrs. Lovett was approaching. He asked the same question several times, before a woman beamed with excitement.
"Oh, yes, sir! I believe I seen him! A little nervous looking boy with blue eyes?" she asked. Todd nodded.
"Oh, it seems the poor dear was just here! He bought a house out by my farm, he did! I only seen the girl once, a tiny little thing huddled in a cloak, so I ain't sure if she's yellow-haired," she replied.
"Yes, the girl is a tad unstable, which is what makes her just the wrong choice at all for my little brother! I must find them and talk sense into him!" Todd said.
"Oh, now, dear, what's wrong with this little girl? It could be she's a perfectly normal, lovely girl!" Mrs. Lovett said slyly.
"Oh no, dear, she cries in the night. Sounds like a ghost she does. People don't like to pass the house now, she wails so fierce. The children are saying she's not alive at all, but the ghost of the boy's lover who died and whom he now lives with!" the vendor told her.
"The girl is prone to awful fits and I fear she will ruin his reputation! She is merely a young actress who took one too many men, if you get my meaning," Todd whispered conspiratorially. The woman pursed her lips in sympathy.
"My son took up with a girl like that. Almost killed him, she did! I hope you are able to put the young man to rights!" the vendor said.
"Well, please try to keep this to ourselves, for I'd hate to risk our reputation further!" Todd whispered, dropping a few coins into the woman's hand. The woman smiled and nodded. Oh, she'd talk eventually, but the money would still her tongue for a time and Todd just had to make sure that his plot was carried out before that.
Erik returned to Todd's shop, sitting in the blackness in the back, where light would not reach without a candle. It was late afternoon, only a few hours before he could see his Christine… He only hoped her mind wasn't so damaged as to not be able to see him without causing a scene. He also hoped that she was sleeping in a separate room from her husband, although he doubted Raoul would be subjecting himself to her nightmares. He heard Todd and Mrs. Lovett return, but didn't go to greet them. He sat alone, thinking. Sweeney probably also had figured out where she was, one way or another. He could conceivably carry out his revenge on his own, but he couldn't deny that it would be easier to have Sweeney to help him lure Raoul into the open. He couldn't risk making Christine more deranged by actually killing Raoul in front of her and Sweeney created an effective way to get him here to kill him. As darkness fell, he brushed past Sweeney as he left the shop to go find his Christine.