Chapter 7

Even as the cream had dried and Mr. Todd was as pain-free as he could get, Mrs. Lovett remained where she was, reclining against the barber's body as she caressed the skin above his knee. Sweeney himself didn't stop the movements of his hand in her hair and on her shoulders and neck either, and the baker couldn't help but feel that she could sit like this for a very, very long time.

After a while however her legs got sore and she was starting to get rather cold now that she was further away from both the barber and the fire than she had been before. As if sensing this, Mr. Todd took her hand in his own, gesturing her to stand up.

When she did so, her dress slid a few inches down her body. She grasped the fabric, shocked and surprised, until she recalled that he had managed to undo the strings on the back that usually kept the material in place.

The barber stared at her and she stared back, for another moment unable believe that he was actually looking at her like that.

"Come sit with me," he said at length, patting at the part of the arm chair where she had been before.

She would be very happy to do so, but as she looked at the still exposed scar, she couldn't help but remember what had happened last time that she had been so close to the barber.

"We just have to be careful," he said, aware of her reluctance and the reason for it.

'Careful' wasn't exactly a word that was actually suitable for the barber and herself, but she knew that they had to be in order to make this work. It had earlier become rather clear several times after all that things weren't going smoothly between them purely because of practical reasons.

Mr. Todd covered the scar, returning the fabric of his trousers to its original place. When he was doing so, the baker got an idea. It probably wasn't a very good and especially not an appropriate one, but it was the only way she could think of to decrease the chance that she would accidentally hurt the barber again. It was not that she wouldn't try to be careful – but that it was basically impossible not to touch the barber's sore leg in any way as long as she was wearing the heavy and long skirt.

When he reached forward to pull the lowest part of his trousers in place, the baker herself shrugged off the fabric of the dress that was partially undone already. She tried not to think of Mr. Todd's reaction just yet – she wasn't exactly sure whether he would appreciate the rash action, but she didn't know what to do otherwise.

His eyes widened almost comically when he sat up again and his eyes fell on her. She would've been amused by the expression of shock on his face, if she hadn't been so scared that he would think that she had gone too far.

"Those skirts have been in the way all day," she said, trying to relieve the tension with a rather awkward joke, but being not very successful at it.

As Sweeney continued to stare at her, the baker began to feel very awkward indeed. Now that she had taken her dress was off, it was not as if he could actually see indecent amounts of her skin; the dress covered her hardly more than her corset, stockings and bloomers were still doing.

Those items of clothing however were clinging tightly to her body, showing every curve that the barber had been quite eager to touch mere moments ago. Plus the fact that it was, as she realized now, indeed a rather drastic measure just to undress partly like this in front of him – never mind that he had started the process himself.

Her face was turning almost just as red as her bloomers. Unaware of this, the barber blinked a few times, as if wanting to ensure himself that this was really happening and that he wasn't hallucinating. Only then he seemed to become aware of her embarrassment.

"Sit with me," he said again, more powerfully this time.

It was all the confirmation that the baker needed. She stepped forward, only then becoming aware of the boots she was still wearing. Sensing that it would probably best to keep the sharp heels as far away from Mr. Todd as possible, she kicked them off. It probably would've been better to take them off with some more care, seeing that they were almost falling apart already, but bending down in front of the barber now that she wasn't wearing her dress any longer didn't seem like such a good idea. It was not as if she had the patience to do so anyway.

She approached him, trying to figure out how to sit comfortably close to him without risking hurting him any longer. She eventually decided to sit exactly like she had done before, legs swung over the armrest of the chair and his own upper legs, making sure that they didn't touch the scar.

Once she was sitting, Mr. Todd wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him and resting his face on her shoulder. Feeling his warm and even breath against her skin, the baker closed her eyes, clinging to the moment of peaceful intimacy that had seemed so completely impossible mere hours ago.

Although her discarded dress wasn't covering her any longer, the baker didn't feel cold at all. Resting against Mr. Todd's solid chest in a comfortable chair near the fire that was burning merrily in the hearth, she felt in fact warmer than she had done for a very long time.

"Your tea," he said after a moment of silence, reaching for the small table where his housekeeper had placed the two cups earlier. "We should drink it before it cools too much."

She nodded, vaguely wondering if there would ever come an end to the surprises of that day. Mr. Todd was simply chivalrous, the way he handed her the cup of tea and did a very good job at not looking at her in a way that was considered inappropriate, even though some not so covered parts of her body were almost right in front of her face.

Her own being however was getting tired of asking the same unanswered questions over and over again. She couldn't be sure whether he was soon going to explain after all what had turned him into this new version of himself, how it could be that he actually reminded her of Benjamin Barker during moments like this.

As the two of them were sipping their tea, leaning against it each other in the chair that used to dominate the baker's parlor, Mrs. Lovett refused once again to think about the absurdity of the situation. She had no idea how long it would last, but she wanted to savor the moment, enjoy it as long as she could.

Thinking about the barber himself was a rather dangerous thing to do now that she was sitting so close to him. She had the idea that she would very easily lose control over herself again if she would actually consider just how close she was sitting to him and how little clothing she was wearing. During two times that day they had already attempted to give in to their apparent desire for each other; she didn't even want to think of what could happen now that they were sitting together like this, the barriers between them smaller than they had ever been.

Giving in to her long cherished fantasies now however would probably be not a very good idea; fate had proven two times already that there appeared to be something that was stopping them. Mrs. Lovett didn't have a clue what they possibly could have to wait for; but perhaps it was just life teasing her – punishing her – for all the times that she had tried to mold the barber's life in a way that suited her own, telling himself so often to wait.

The tea turned out to be a very welcome distraction from those thoughts. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted, not even when she had been able to afford proper tea when her own business had been blossoming. It tasted like the apple she had smelled before and she was again aware of the exotic ingredient that she had been aware of earlier. But even now that she was drinking the tea, she had no idea what she was tasting exactly. For a moment she was tempted to ask him, but no matter how much she was intrigued by the tea – delicious and mysterious, just like the barber himself – it was the least interesting thing she could possibly ask him now.

The world outside the parlor ceased to exist as the barber and the baker were snuggled against each other, staring at the flames in the hearth as they slowly drank their tea.

"When the Beadle and the Judge were dead, and when you escaped, I knew that I couldn't stay in Fleet Street. I had to leave London as soon as I could."

Mrs. Lovett looked away from the pleasant fire when she heard the barber's voice. She was both surprised and delighted to hear him speak. It was not as if he had often talked to her on his own accord in the past, especially not when it was about things that she was particularly curious about.

"After what had happened – after what I had done – there was no reason for me to continue living. During my banishment I had survived to return to my family and once I was in London again I had to stay alive to revenge my wife and child. I had always known that there would be nothing left after that."

Even though the room was warm and the barber was right next to her, having made very clear to her that he didn't blame her any longer, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but shiver. She knew exactly what Sweeney was talking about. He had never said so to her – which wasn't a surprise – but she had always sensed that he was convinced that there was nothing left for him once he had avenged his family.

Mr. Todd tightened his hold on her, seemingly aware of the effect of his words on her. The gesture calmed her, reminding her that whatever he was going to tell her now belonged to the past and wouldn't come back to haunt either of them.

"I didn't mind dying," he continued, "but under no circumstances I wanted to be arrested again, to go back to prison before being sentenced to death."

The way he spoke about a possible arrest and prison made her tremble slightly. She could hear fear in his voice, even now. It reminded her of what he must've gone through for fifteen years, before he had managed to escape the colony. He had never talked about the things that had happened to him and she was rather sure that he even wouldn't do so now. She didn't mind this however; it wasn't difficult to guess the basics of what he had experienced during those years.

She was rather sure however that even her worst nightmares about his fate were nothing compared to what truly had happened. She could only hope that the barber himself had found a way to deal with the horrors that he had been forced to live through and even the baker herself sensed that talking about it would do more harm than good.

"I fled to the south," he said. "I have no idea why I did so; I just walked and walked without being aware of where I was going, until I reached the coast. I had taken nothing with me except for my clothes and razor that I had had with me when I killed Turpin and Bamford. When I reached a village, I managed to steal clean clothes and remove the blood from the knife. I had no food and shelter however and doing any more against the law to get it would be a bad idea, because it would only draw attention to myself. Because of this I also couldn't earn money with my own profession."

The barber was silent, as if he was reviving that day that had taken place a decade ago even now.

"I remember being frustrated by how soon I found myself being in a rather hopeless situation without your help. Even then I couldn't help but admit to myself that things would've been easier if we still would've been together. Especially then, you were much more... practical than I ever was."

The baker couldn't help but smile, recognizing a compliment when she got one, especially one that was so big and flattering as the one that Mr. Todd was currently giving her.

"There was not much time for me to think of what I should do next. I was... tempted to go after you. If it hadn't been for you, my wife would've still been alive. Or at least, as alive as she had been when Turpin was done with her."

This time, she wasn't aware that Mr. Todd basically openly admitted that Lucy couldn't have been saved, just like she had always known. The shivering of her body didn't come to an end, but this time because he told her that he had been actually planning to find her, to try again to take her life after he had failed to do so in the bakehouse.

His hand reached for her own, caressing it, even before intuitive panic overtook the baker. Sweeney had obviously expected this reaction and was willing to calm her, knowing how his words effected her. This soothed her and she rested her head against his chest again, thus encouraging him to continue.

"I think I really would've done it," he muttered, shame and horror clear in his voice. "I truly didn't understand why you hadn't told me. I was angry with you in a way I had never been before – not even when the Judge was concerned. It seemed that I needed someone to blame even then. I had forgotten already about what you had said to me when I found out – or at least, I couldn't remember it for a very long time. But I had to take a quick decision; I couldn't stay long in that village, hiding myself. Someone was bound to realize who I was sooner or later."

There was another silence. Mrs. Lovett tightened the grasp of her arms that were wrapped around the barber's chest, trying to prevent him from returning to a place where she couldn't follow him.

"I still don't know how it could've happened," Sweeney said after a few seconds. "It must've been nothing but coincidence. But still, the odds of that ship appearing that night..."

He shook his head, looking at her, only then seemingly remembering that she was still there.

"There was a storm that night," he said, and Mrs. Lovett found herself nodding, remembering it as well. The storm had been a particularly brutal one. It had left her trembling in the abandoned house where she had been hiding, feeling as if the barber's wrath had somehow caught up with her after all.

"There had been a ship anchored in front of the coast. It was swept on the rocks near the village. It was a naval ship and in the chaos that followed, I managed to mingle with the crew. After a few days the ship was repaired and before the news about the two of us had reached the area, it sailed away – with me on it. No one seemed to realize that I didn't belong on that ship. And if someone would've found out who I really was... well, I would've noticed."

"How long did you stay aboard?" the baker asked, the question leaving her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Several years," he answered. "Four at least."

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly, not believing what she was hearing. It was only logical that the barber had left England – he probably would've been found otherwise, his crimes being even more discussed than her own and his looks more unusual than hers. But it was rather ironic that she had spent so long fearing that the barber would return to kill her after all, when she had literally been out of his reach all that time.

"It was for me just a way to make sure I wouldn't get caught," he said. "And before and after my banishment I had spent quite some time on boats; I knew how to do the necessary work. I had never been a soldier, but killing was something I was quite good at."

The baker didn't fail to notice the sarcastic curve of his lips. She herself couldn't help but feel that the barber's story was defined by irony. It was indeed hard to imagine that the man who had harmed so many London citizens had been risking his life fighting for the same nation.

"Life aboard however was better than I had expected. The conditions were much less unpleasant than on both ships I had been on before and there were only battles with ships of other countries every once in a while. I spent more time working as a barber than holding any actual weapons. The other soldiers and even the officers were actually quite... friendly."

Mrs. Lovett's lips curled upwards because of the way that he pronounced the last word, as if he still couldn't belief to find anything else than hatred and cruelty in the world, let alone on a ship belonging to the British navy.

"One of the men reminded me very much of the man I had once been myself," Sweeney added. "He called himself Lee; for years, I knew him only by that name. He was quite young and he paid me a few times a week a few pennies in exchange for a shave. He tried to start a conversation with me countless times, but I wasn't inclined to do so. Even as time passed, I kept thinking about Lucy and Johanna – about what you had done. Forming any ties in the world that I was living in now wasn't something I was willing to do."

The baker almost rolled her eyes. It was quite easy to imagine the barber in an English uniform, ignoring anything and anyone around him. Except for the clothing, that was how he had been around her for several months, no matter how much she had wanted it to be otherwise.

"But after a while it became impossible to continue like that. Lee was very insisted, but at the same time he seemed sincere... as if he truly wanted to get to know me. So we talked. Our conversations become longer and more personal. I never told him anything about who I was now, but I found it strangely easy to hide myself behind the character of the man who I once had been. Perhaps it wasn't difficult at all because Lee was so much like I had been once myself."

His voice faltered for a moment, as if he was in his mind talking to the man that Mrs. Lovett had never heard of until a minute ago, instead of telling about his recent life to the woman who he was currently holding.

"He talked a lot about his young child. A girl, yellow hair... before I knew it, I found myself talking to him about Johanna, how it had been like when she was just born. I couldn't mention what had happened to her when she grew older without giving away too much about myself and who I had become – who I really was. But it was actually rather easy and calming just to talk about our young daughters."

The baker felt a pang of envy when she heard that Mr. Todd had allowed another human being to get relatively close to him after all – a person who wasn't her. But she was the one sitting so close to him right now, she was the one who he had kissed earlier with obvious desire, and she hadn't forgotten it.

"Once every few months the ship would port in an English harbor. We had the possibility to post or receive letters at such moments. That's how Lee found out that his wife was severely ill, even though she was hundreds of kilometers away. He wanted to go to her, of course, but he couldn't. He needed the money that he earned by serving the navy to look after his wife and his child and he had signed a contract when he had enrolled, bounding him to the ship. Lee was desperate. I knew that feeling very well and for the first time, I felt a connection between us."

Mr. Todd was silent for a moment before continuing his story, as if the events were playing in front of his eyes even now.

"It was the first time I really talked about Lucy. Usually I avoided talking about her – it was still too painful to truly think about her, because it reminded me too much of what had happened to her – because of me. But as we talked about our spouses and I omitted the parts of our lives that I couldn't speak of, I found out that it was some sort of comfort to share some of my thoughts with someone else."

The baker had once again some difficulty hiding her emotions. She was triumphant when she heard him confirm at last what she had told him all this time. Indeed, if she would've gotten a penny for every time that she had said to the barber that he would feel better if he talked to someone about whatever it was that tormented him – talked to her – she would've been a very rich woman indeed. At the same time however she couldn't suppress a feeling of jealousy at finding out that there was someone who he had trusted much more than her, even though this man was someone he hardly knew.

"Only a few weeks after Lee received the letter in which his wife wrote that she felt that she wouldn't live much longer, our ship was attacked by a small French fleet in the middle of the night. There weren't many ships, but we were outnumbered. We were ordered however to fight."

Sweeney closed his eyes and she could sense the tension that appeared in his body when he talked about the battle that must've taken place several years ago. It was clear that he was reluctant to talk about it – even now, even to her.

"The ship was boarded by French soldiers. I managed to kill at least four of them before I was shot in my leg. The battle continued around me. Many other men fell, most of them crew members of my ship – Lee was one of them. There was nothing I could do however, nothing to help him or even defend myself. As I was lying there, I wondered how it could be that time was continuing around us. So many lives were ending, but the world continued spinning as if nothing was going on. The sound of the canons, the smell of gunpowder and fire, the noises of men screaming around me, either in triumph or defeat, their grunts – their silence. The pain... Only then I realized that life on the ship had been so quiet thus far, how pleasant it had been. I had forgotten what it felt like to die."

The silence that followed this was longer than any that had fallen before. Mrs. Lovett looked at him, face illuminated by the light of the flames in the room that was getting dark now that the winter day was coming to an end. She could almost see the pain he felt as he recalled this moment, as if he saw his friend being wounded right in front of him even now.

"I don't know what happened after that. I must've lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, it was still dark, but it was very quiet. For a long time I was only aware of the pain in my leg. There were guards around me, but they had their back towards me. It was clear that they were busier enjoying the celebration of their victory than doing their actual work. I managed to bind my leg with parts of my uniform. When the fblood flow was stopped, the pain lessened a little and I could look around me more properly. There were a lot of heavily wounded men around me, all of them being part of the crew of the ship that I served on. None of them appeared to be capable of moving. There was no sign of the dead; they must've been thrown off the deck. Lee wasn't far away from me. I was relieved that he was still alive, but he was severely wounded and wouldn't live much longer if he didn't get any help."

Although she was only hearing the story and wasn't actual part of it, Mrs. Lovett felt as if she was right there. Sweeney was telling the story in such a way that it seemed as if she was actually experiencing it herself. It was far too easy to imagine his pain and fear; it almost seemed as if she was feeling it herself, even though the events that he was describing had taken place long ago and far away from London. The barber had survived in relative good health – otherwise he wouldn't be sitting next to her right now, telling her this. But she found herself clinging to him anyway.

Even though both Mr. Todd's surprisingly warm body and the burning fire were close to her, they couldn't chase the sudden coldness in her body away, no matter how much she reminded herself that this was nothing but a story – a real and haunting story, but a story nonetheless.

Aware of her reaction to his story, Sweeney took off his vest and pulled it around her shoulders, covering her partly exposed upper body with the thick fabric.

"I knew I had to do something. On the other half of the ship were the crew members who weren't wounded and they weren't guarded very well either, but they were chained to the masts and couldn't go anywhere without help. The men around me and I were free, but I appeared to be the only one who was even concscious. All our weapons were taken from us, but they must've missed the razor that I was carrying with me, for it was still in its holster. There was for me only one way to act."

The baker closed her eyes for a moment. A moment ago she had had no idea how the barber had managed to get out of the situation, but now she had a rather good idea.

"I don't know how I did it, but I got up and approached the guards, without them noticing. I sneaked up behind them and slit their throats, one by one. No one saw anything, except for the members of my crew who were captured but not severely wounded. I freed them. We took the weapons of the men we had killed and went to the one French ship that had remained right next to ours. It wasn't much of a fight – the soldiers were mostly too drunk to realize we were even there. By the time they might've been aware of what was going on, they were dead."

There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Lovett had been caught up so much in the story that the unexpected sound made her almost jump.

"Enter," Sweeney said, not loosening his reassuring embrace.

"Dinner is ready in fifteen minutes," Mrs. Clint said as she opened the door to the parlor.

He simply nodded his head and the housekeeper closed the door again. Mrs. Lovett was vaguely aware of her state of undress and she had no idea whether Mrs. Clint had seen the discarded dress on the floor or noticed that the baker wasn't wearing much beneath the barber's jacket, but she didn't really care.

"Our own ship was heavily damaged because of the earlier battle. The other ship was in a better state, so the captain decided to take the French ship to return to England," the barber said, continuing the story as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "A little more than the half of the original crew was still alive and enough of them were healthy enough to sail the ship. Luckily enough, the ship's doctor hadn't been killed or wounded, and he could tend to the injured, me included."

The announcement of a meal had made the baker realize once again how hungry she was, but even though her stomach was grumbling once again, she forgot about it almost as soon as Sweeney began to talk again.

"My leg hurt more than anything I had experienced before, even during the first years in the colony. I was mostly worried about Lee however. He had been shot in the chest and although the doctor said that there were no organs or veins hit, the bullet was stuck in his body. There weren't enough supplies on board to treat each crew member and on a moving ship it wasn't safe to operate either way. So Lee was one of the unlucky ones. He had to wait for proper care until the ship was back in England and he and crew members in a similar situation could be brought to a real hospital. We sailed back to London as quickly as we could, but as we reached it after a little less than a week, Lee was almost dead already."

The barber swallowed audibly. Mrs. Lovett tensed, sensing what he was going to say next.

"After a few days in the hospital, a letter from Lee's neighbor arrived, announcing that his wife had died. By then however it was clear that there was no way that Lee could survive his wounds. The news of his wife's death only sped up the time that he still had. He was torn. He wanted to die, to be reunited with his wife, whom he loved very much. But at the same time, he wanted to survive, to stay alive to look after his daughter. He had told me often enough that there was no other remaining family to look after her, that he would raise her himself as soon as he was free to leave the navy. But eventually, it didn't matter. He didn't have a choice – the decision was made for him by the man who had shot him in the chest."

Mrs. Lovett hadn't really understood why he was telling her about his friend. Although she felt that it was indeed a huge accomplishment for him to actually open up to another human being, let alone trust him as much as she felt that Mr. Todd had trusted the man who he had been talking about for quite a while now, she hadn't seen why it was important in the overview that he was giving her now of the life that he had lived when they had been apart.

But as she recalled that he had mentioned the blond haired girl who was soon to be an orphan, it was suddenly clear to the baker however what he was going to say.

"She's his daughter," she said, not fully aware that she was actually saying her thoughts out loud. "Victoria... she's Lee's daughter."

"She is," Sweeney replied, apparently not bothered that she had interrupted his narration. "When Lee knew that his wife had died and that he would follow her soon, and that there was no one else to protect his girl and look after her who he trusted enough to do so, he asked me to become her guardian. I didn't want to do such thing and I told him so. My life was at sea now and besides, I didn't want to be responsible for anyone, especially not for a young girl, the daughter of a man who had become very dear to me. I was still a fugitive, even though he didn't know this of course."

"But he persuaded you," she said. "Victoria wouldn't be here if he hadn't."

"Indeed. The decision wasn't fully mine at first. I had intended to return to the navy as soon as I was capable. I had no other purpose in life and although I hadn't actually enjoyed my time as a British soldier, the life I had built there for myself was much better than I had ever thought possible during the days I spent in London. There didn't pass a day that I didn't think about my wife and child several times at least, but it felt as if they didn't follow me any longer with every step I took, reminding me of how I had failed them. The injury of my leg however got infected in the hospital, even though it had started healing aboard the ship already. The wound got worse than it had been before. The surgeon had to cut out some pieces of flesh. He wasn't even sure whether I would be able to keep the leg; if the infection spread, he would have had to amputate it."

The barber's hand reached for his right leg, fingers touching the awful scar that Mrs. Lovett had seen earlier.

"The operation was successful. I recovered, but it would take a long time before I could walk properly again, let alone survive on a ship. I told myself for a while that this was the reason that I at last accepted Lee's request. But the truth was that even I couldn't ignore his last wish, whether I had been wounded or not, no matter how much I had been convinced that I had lost the capability to care about human beings. He died not long afterwards. I hardly had the chance to mourn him – when I woke up the next morning, Victoria was sitting at my bedside. Lee's neighbor had taken her with him to bring her to me while he himself came to collect Lee's body – he wanted to be buried next to his wife, in the cemetery of the village where they used to live."

As another silence fell, Mrs. Lovett's mind drifted back to something that Sweeney had said to her earlier that day. She hadn't fully realized then what he was saying – she had been rather preoccupied by what he was doing as well at that moment – but now she recalled what he had mentioned regarding Victoria's age. He had told her how old the girl was; her age made it impossible for her to be the barber's daughter, for he was still in the colony when Victoria had been born.

"That's why you said that she's twelve," she gasped, realizing now that he had tried to tell her much earlier that Victoria wasn't actually his daughter, which she had thought – and feared – for quite a while. "I thought..."

"What?" he asked, seemingly still not bothered that she interrupted the story that was clearly for him still difficult and painful to tell.

"Sorry," she said, realizing that she had once again talked when she probably shouldn't have done so. "I just thought that... that she was your daughter."

She almost added how shocked she had been when she had thought that Mr. Todd had conceived a child with another woman – a child that should've been hers after all the time that she had longed for him, had looked after him, risking her own life by doing so. She almost told him how utterly disappointed and saddened she had been when she had been convinced that he had found another woman to share his life with, to have his child, such a short time after he had discarded her as if she wasn't even a human being.

Before she could say anything however that she would regret later, there was another knock on the door.

"Dinner's ready," Mrs. Clint called, not bothering to open the door to the parlor this time.

"Shall we?" the barber asked, gesturing towards a room that lay beyond the area they were currently in. The baker vaguely recalled seeing a kitchen there when she had entered the house earlier that day.

"Sounds good," she said, hoping that her voice didn't betray how much exactly she was longing for a proper meal – and that the hungry sounds that her stomach was making weren't too obvious either.

She stood up carefully, making sure not to touch his leg in any way. While doing so, his vest slid off her shoulders, reminding her that her actual dress was still lying on the floor.

Mrs. Lovett picked it up, knowing that she couldn't possibly appear in her corset at the dinner table. She tried to put it on as quickly as she could, but doing so was more difficult than she had thought. She couldn't see the strings at the back and although this usually wasn't a problem, it was more difficult to tie the fabric now because she wasn't familiar with this dress any longer and because she couldn't suppress the shake of her hands any longer; just like the rest of her body, they were weak with malnutrition that was worse than ever just before the promised meal.

"Let me help you."

Before she knew it, Sweeney was behind her, tying the laces of her corset, fingers brushing against his skin. She had no idea whether the touches were accidental or that he caressed her on purpose, but the brushes of his hands left her trembling with more than just hunger either way.

Even though he was dressing her instead of taking her clothes off like she had been so eager for him to do earlier, she enjoyed his touch very much indeed. If anything, she was pleased of the events of the second half of that afternoon. The barber and she had spent it in quite a different way than she had expected earlier, but she didn't really mind.

Although her being had craved his intimate touch, especially now that she had partly found out how much pleasure he could bring her, she realized only now how much she had missed it just to talk to somebody. She had Teddy, of course, but communicating with him couldn't be compared to speaking to another adult, especially when he was Sweeney Todd himself.

Especially not because the barber was a man who she loved and trusted, no matter what. Now that he seemed to share those feelings to at least some extent, it was delightful indeed just to talk to him, their bodies touching innocently as he shared the events of his recent life with her.

But no matter how pleased she was to have heard the first part of his story and how eager she was to hear more about Victoria and the rather bizarre turns that his life had taken, food was the only thing she could think of in that moment. Guided by the barber's hand on the small of her back, she headed for the kitchen, where Teddy and Victoria were already waiting for them.