Chapter 4

Sleep brought Mrs. Lovett the rest she needed, though she somehow couldn't relax as much as when Sweeney Todd was next to her. But neither dreams nor nightmares interrupted the blissful oblivion; that was enough for the time being.

She even continued sleeping when the barber screamed in horror as he read the name that was written on one of the corpse's wallets.

She wasn't aware of the unnatural power with which he dragged the bodies to the bakehouse; of with how much energy he cleaned every inch of the dimly lit pie shop and of the kind way he looked after Toby, who was recovering from a hangover in the barber's shop. Nor did she notice how the barber filled a bathtub with water that had been warmed near the oven in the bakehouse after he had personally transformed the bodies into pie meat.

While he was cutting the bodies into pieces, Sweeney wished that he had been able to stop Peter Turpin before he had assaulted Mrs. Lovett. How could he not have known that the Judge had a brother who was just as evil? He wished he could make it right, all this injustice, but the pain and fear that had been caused was so deep that it couldn't be soothed.

After the pie shop looked again like nothing extraordinary had happened there, Sweeney returned to his room to start his own work with even more passion than usual, motivated as he was by the Judge's brother, who had ruined another woman's life.

However, Toby was still sleeping in the barber chair. There weren't any customers yet, so Mr. Todd picked up the boy and carried him downstairs to Mrs. Lovett's parlour, where he laid him on the couch where the boy usually slept.

When he was downstairs anyway, Sweeney couldn't resist the urge to check on Mrs. Lovett. Soundlessly, he walked to her bedroom and opened the door. It was dark inside; she had shut the curtains. Although he couldn't see her, he didn't want to disturb her in her sleep, so he left the room again, closing the door carefully behind him.

When he was on his way back to the barber's shop, he heard an unidentifiable sound as he passed the door to the bakehouse. At first he thought that he heard Toby awaken, but then the barber realized that the noise came from the basement.

Without thinking twice, Sweeney Todd took one of his friends out of the holster on his belt and held it in front of him, ready to kill whoever had entered the bakehouse.

He entered the basement and closed the heavy door soundlessly behind him. The barber listened closely and when the soft sound reached his ears again, he descended the stairs.

When his foot reached the floor, he sneaked further into the bakehouse, without making any sound, until he could see who had intruded the basement. When he did so, it took him a few seconds to realize what was happening in front of him.

The person, who had made the sounds that he had heard, was Mrs. Lovett. She was taking a bath in the tub that he had filled for her, but which he hadn't told her about yet.

He stopped dead in his tracks, watching her, not knowing what else to do.

Furiously she scrubbed her skin; the perfume of soap lay heavy in the air. He realized what she was doing: she was trying to remove the embarrassment, clean the mental dirt. It was useless, but he felt that it was something so needed to go through.

What he felt too was that his presence was really uncalled for. She couldn't see him, but he could see her. The tub protected her body against his gaze, but every time she moved, he could see a part of her back or breasts. He knew very well that he should go away, that watching her was the worst thing to do, but he couldn't help it. It seemed like his feet were rooted in the ground and he was simply incapable of tearing his gaze away from her. The realization that the Judge, his brother and he himself had a fellow taste in woman dawned on him hard. Sweeney Todd told himself he loved his Lucy and that he didn't care for any other woman, but his wife was not in his mind when he watched his landlady, the latest victim of the Turpins, washing her hair thoroughly for a fourth time.

After a few more minutes, Mrs. Lovett reached for a towel that was lying next to the tub to dry the long curls of her hair. What would happen next was predictable. Mr. Todd saw it coming, but he simply didn't leave and was even unable of closing his eyes.

She stepped out of the tub, and in the few seconds before she put on a bathrobe, the barber had a glorious view on her naked body. It seemed extremely pale and soft, especially now that the water dripped from it.

The demon barber stared at her from the darkness, dumbfounded, his mouth open in an attempt to get some air in his lungs. For the first time since more than a decade he actually felt something. Nothing like revenge or melancholy, which usually consumed him, nor was it love, the emotion he felt for his long lost wife that was there all the time, like an ever continuing song in the back of his head that he was unable to ignore. What Sweeney Todd felt now was new, something he hadn't felt almost as long as he could remember: desire.

While he battled himself mentally to get that feeling out of his system, Mrs. Lovett walked towards the door of the bakehouse. She was less than three yards away from him and Sweeney could see the tears in her eyes. When she was so close to him, with nothing but a bathrobe to hide the beauty of which Sweeney Todd suddenly craved to see more, he suddenly felt just as lost as Mrs. Lovett, though in a very different way.

A few minutes after the baker had left the basement, Sweeney Todd was finally able to move again. He walked up the stairs, but his steps were less certain and firm than before. The image of the bathing Mrs. Lovett was printed in his brain, and he was afraid that he would never get it out of his head.

Sweeney let his body fall on the first chair he spotted in Mrs. Lovett's parlour. He would've remained sitting there for a long time if Toby hadn't woken up at that moment. When the boy mumbled something about customers, Mr. Todd realized that there was, as if the new circumstances of the past few hours weren't enough already, the usual business to take care of.

"You," he said to the boy, who was clearly confused now that the barber instead of his adoptive mother talked to him early in the morning.

"Where's Mrs. Lovett?" Toby asked, while sitting up on the couch.

"She isn't well. You have to tend to the customers today," Sweeney Todd said, without mentioning one more word about the baker.

Toby looked as if he wanted to ask more questions or disobey the direct order the barber had given him, but then he got up and walked quickly towards the pie shop, grabbing an old piece of bread from the table to have something for breakfast.

As usual, Sweeney Todd didn't feel like eating something. Instead, he watched how Toby sold pie after pie to the impatient customers. Luckily, there were plenty of pies from the previous day. They probably didn't taste as good as they usually did, but at least the boy had something to sell.

When the barber was sure that Toby could handle everything by himself, he returned to his barber shop, where the first customer was already waiting.

During the day, Sweeney Todd killed his customers with even more bloodlust than usual, as if he could take away some of the pain that had been caused to his landlady or could cut out the piece of himself that was attracted to Mrs. Lovett.

But it was unsuccessful, and at the end of the day all what he had, was a pile of corpses, a hungry boy, and an apparently lifeless baker.

Toby was easiest to take care of. He gave the boy a few pennies so he could buy himself a meal, then he went to the bakehouse after he had made sure that Mrs. Lovett was really in her bedroom this time, not allowing himself to be deceived by closed curtains again.

In the basement, he cut the bodies in pieces so that at least that part of the work was done. He knew that Mrs. Lovett wouldn't be back soon and he didn't blame her. He would have to try to figure out as soon as possible how he could bake those pies himself. He was quite sure that if he had some sort of recipe he could handle baking the pies himself for a while. Then Mrs. Lovett could rest and take a break until she felt better. Toby had proven today that he could run the shop all by himself as long as there were enough pies. The customers didn't know that Peter and his friends had returned last night, but they all understood that the pie baker deserved a break after the incident of the previous day.

While he chopped off the limbs, Mr. Todd mused how ironic it was that all the woman he cared for ended up hurt (or worse) because of the Turpins. First of all his Lucy, then his Johanna, and now Mrs. Lovett. Even though he didn't love her in the way his heart belonged to Lucy and Johanna, he cared for her, and today he had to admit that her body looked rather charming too.

But the reason that he was worried about her was much deeper. She had done so much for him after all. It was time to do something back.

When the last body was cut into pieces, he cleaned his hands in the cold water in the tub, trying to ignore the fact that Mrs. Lovett's body had been soothed by the same water hours before.

One minute later, he knocked on her door. Mrs. Lovett didn't give him permission to enter; she didn't say anything at all. But he hadn't expected her to anyway. So he entered the room without her approval, closing the door carefully behind him.

"How do you feel?" he asked her quietly.

A desperate sob told him enough.

"Mrs. Lovett, I…"

Although he could tell she tried to suppress it, she started to cry, her body shaking violently.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "It's me. I won't hurt you. I'm just here to look after…"

She didn't stop crying, not at all. And if it wasn't enough yet, she had trouble breathing too. While he watched her helplessly, she began to hyperventilate. She fought for breath, but her terrorized body seemed to be sick of resisting.

Before his landlady could give up completely, he took her in his arms, not caring about the insinuations of this.

"Mrs. Lovett, it's alright," he whispered in her ear. "You're safe. Nobody will hurt you. I'll make sure no one will. Don't be afraid, I…"

But it didn't work. She took in short, desperate breaths of air, but it wasn't enough to fill her lungs. He could feel her petite body struggle in his arms, but there was nothing he could do to help her, except for persuading her to fight the panic and fear within her.

"Mrs. Lovett, please," he begged her. "Try to fight. Don't let him win. You must be strong. He's dead; you don't have to fear him anymore. I made him pay. But you have to breathe. Please, try to breathe."

He was aware of the fact that he was actually begging his landlady to get better, but it was the only thing he could do. He simply needed her to survive, for if she died, just like his Lucy, injustice would prevail once more. Then, he would be totally alone in the darkness of London, and once more he'd be too late to save a woman he cared for.