Sweeney stared as a frightened Mrs. Lovett drained the rest of the amber liquid. He hand shook as she placed the glass back on the ancient wooden table. "Well?" growled the barber, his black eyes boring into her. "Why, precisely, are you alive?"
She cleared her throat. "I, erm, disposed of that beadle…then I put the fire out…didn't want Toby 'aving too much fun with the oven, did I?"
She gulped. Sweeney continued glaring as he hissed, "Why did you lie to me?"
Still shaking, Mrs. Lovett stared down at her hands. "I-I was only thinking of you, Mr. T, I promise," she pleaded.
He glared. "More, woman!"
She sighed. "Your Lucy went mad. She didn't even remember who she was."
"I knew that."
Mrs. Lovett sighed. This would be difficult. Who wanted to be told that their wife had, well…
"She didn't remember who you were."
He stared, horrified. "Liar," he said in a low voice.
Mrs. Lovett shook her head anxiously. "No, Mr. T, please listen to me. I promise you, she forgot. After the judge…well…'e…got 'er, she took to drinking. Two bottles- of gin- a day. And, well…it got to her."
She glanced up, wincing, afraid of what he would do. Sweeney was sitting ramrod straight, eyes shut, his fists clenched. Tears came to Mrs. Lovett's eyes as she watched the man suffer. But she had to continue.
"She stopped taking care of Johanna. I became the child's mummy. She just sat and stared, muttering and swigging. I tried to tell 'er, it wasn't no good, she'd just get worse, but she was too drunk. Then one day, I come up there to get Johanna out of 'er cradle, and there she was, 'olding a bottle of poison. I tried to beg her, tried to tell her stop, but she just shook 'er 'ead. 'Please,' I said, 'think about Benjamin. Wot'll 'e say?' She just stared and scowled. 'Wot about Johanna?' I said. She glared and said, 'Shut up, you'- she called me a nasty name then-, 'I know what I'm doing.' And then, well… you know the rest."
Mrs. Lovett watched as Sweeney ran his hand through his bloodied hair. A single tear ran down his nose. She reached out a gentle finger to catch the drop. She was horrified to see that the clear liquid was mixed with dark red blood.
They sat in silence for a while, the barber and the baker, waiting until the moment came that they were forced to move. Finally Mrs. Lovett sighed and said, "Well, we'd best find Toby now. Wot do you say, love?"
Sweeney nodded fractionally. She stood patiently as he dragged himself away from the table, his head still bowed in sorrow. "Come 'ere, love, we'll just see if 'e's come back yet."
The duo made their way slowly down the steps into the baking cellar. A terrified Toby stood staring at the bloodied bodies sprawled on the floor. White-faced, he glanced up at Mrs. Lovett. Shock registered on his face before he raced to her side. Toby clung to her, sobbing into her side. Then he glanced up, his swollen eyes slits, and said, "He did this, I told you, mum. He's a-a bad man."
Mrs. Lovett shushed him and gently wiped away his tears. "No, Toby, those two…um…got in a fight. The man, 'e killed his wife, and then 'imself."
"What about the finger in the pie, then?"
"That was…an April Fool's joke for you, love. I hid it down here. It was fake, I promise. Now, apologize to Mr. T, please."
Toby obliged. Sweeney stared at him, his face whiter than usual, and gave another tiny nod. Mrs. Lovett took their hands and led them gently upstairs into the light.