My Cutthroat Romance

Chapter 9

Mrs. Lovett joined Sweeney at the window, wondering what could possibly be so interesting. At first she didn’t see anyone, but then Pirelli and Toby emerged from an alley across the street.

“Hello. What’s he doing here?” She asked rhetorically.

The barber turned to her, his face showing the tiniest sign of enthusiasm.

“Keep the boy downstairs.” He told her.

She nodded once before leaving. Mr. Todd turned around and went to tidy up a little bit, even if it was liable to get a bit messy anyway, he wanted it tidy to start with at least. Mrs. Lovett met Pirelli and his little worker at the bottom of the stairs.

“Signora, is Mr. Todd at home?” Pirelli asked.

“Plying his trade upstairs.” Her eyes moved to Toby. “Aw, would you look at it now? You wouldn’t mind if I gave him a nice, juicy meat pie would you?” She replied, doing as she had been asked.

“Si, si, si, whatever you want.” Pirelli replied, ushering them both out of the way.

Toby smiled slightly at Mrs. Lovett as she stepped past his master and led him into the pie shop.

“Come on lad. Your teeth are strong I hope. Close the door.” She said kindly.

Gerard was sitting on the bench, picking at his fingernails when they got in. He smiled at Toby who smiled shyly back at him. Mrs. Lovett smiled uneasily at her son; he had no idea what Mr. Todd would probably do either.

“Get you a nice, lovely pie.”  She said absentmindedly to Toby.

She pulled out a plate, blew the dust of it and dropped a pie in a middle of it.

“Sit down, make yourself comfy.” She told Toby in her usual motherly tone.

Gerard scooted over on the seat and Toby sat beside him, taking his hat off.

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Meanwhile upstairs Pirelli rapped on the window of the door with his white-gloved knuckles to attract the attention of the other barber who was brushing off his chair.

“Come in.” He replied, standing up.

Pirelli ducked under the door frame to avoid knocking his hat off as he came in and shut the door gently behind him.

“Mr. Todd.” He acknowledged.

“Signor Pirelli.” Sweeney replied almost mockingly.

There was a small pause.

“Call me Davey. Davey Collins’ the name when it’s not professional.” He discarded his hat, cane, gloves and cape on a chest beside the door. “I’d like me five quid back if you don’t mind.”

“Why?” Todd questioned, keeping his tone casual, but he couldn’t help the confused and annoyed frown off his face.

“Because you entered into our little wager on false pretences my friend. So that you might remember to be a bit more forthright in the future…I’ll be taking half your profits from herewith. Share and share alike.” There was another pause before Davey turned to him. “Mr. Benjamin Barker.”

He narrowed his eyes the smallest amount before looking down and away from the other man. He was in no position to kill him yet, there would be a struggle if he tried.

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“There we are. Tuck in.” Mrs. Lovett smiled softly at the grubby little blond before her.

Toby did so, taking a huge bite out of the pie. Gerard wrinkled his nose; he really must be starving to want to eat that.

“I like to see a man with a healthy appetite. Reminds me of my dear Albert. Liked to gorge himself to blotation he did.” His mother mused fondly, looking over at a picture of her deceased husband.

“He didn’t have your nice head of hair though.” Gerard interjected, mocking his father’s baldness as always.

“To tell the truth, it gets awful hot.” The boy replied, pulling the blond hair off and revealing a shock of messy black hair underneath and ruffling it.

Gerard grinned, glancing at his mother who glanced towards the ceiling.

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“Yes, this’ll do nicely.” Collins muttered, examining the shop.

Sweeney said nothing and continued to stare out of his window.

“You don’t remember me do you? Why should you? I was just a little nipper you hired for a couple of weeks sweeping up hair. But I remember these. And how could I ever forget you Mr. Barker?” The faux Italian continued, smiling as he carefully held one of the razors from the box. “I used to sit, right here…and dream of the day when I could become a proper barber myself. You might say that you was…inspiration to me.” He concluded, swinging the razor in and out of the handle.

Sweeney glanced at the razor before averting his eyes and walking away, struggling not to let his temper get the better of him too soon. As he crossed the room he glanced at the razors still in the box and stopped in front of the kettle.

“So has we got a deal? Or should I run down the street to me old pal, Beadle Bamford? What do you say to that now,” He put his Italian accent on again. “Mr. Sweeney Todd?” He laughed mockingly.

The kettle started whistling, adding to the rage building inside him. He grabbed the handle and spun around, smacking the idiot behind him around the face with it, putting as much force as he could into it. It only took two hits and he was on the floor, he slammed the kettle into his face roughly eight more times before the anger had subsided. He dropped the kettle, causing water to spill over the floorboards and walked around to the chair in the middle of the room, collapsing in it, his chest heaving.

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Toby looked up at the ceiling, wondering what all the noise was, and Gerard did the same, frowning. Mrs. Lovett looked down and banged a bowl and a rolling pin on the counter.

“My, my, my. Always work to be done. Spic and span, that’s my motto.” She said hurriedly, wiping at the side with a cloth.

Toby seemed to see that as a good enough excuse for the commotion and passed it off as that he wasn’t concentrating enough to know where the sound came from. Gerard however frowned at his mother. The place was anything [i]but[/i] spic and span. Something had to be wrong with the situation.

“So, how’d you end up with that dreadful Italian?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Got me from the workhouse. Been there since I was born.” There was a pause before a realization came to him. “Oh God! He’s got an appointment with his tailor! If he’s late he’ll blame me!” The boy exclaimed, running out of the room and up the stairs.

“Wait!” Mrs. Lovett half-whispered urgently, but he was already gone.

She looked at the ceiling and then back at Gerard. Gerard was frowning suspiciously, leaning back with his feet on the table and his arms crossed. He put his feet back on the floor after receiving a stern look, but continued to frown as he tried to figure out what was going on.