Caught Somewhere in Time

The plan

After going over his plan step by step with the lad, and hoping that thick headedness and deficient resourcefulness were not more similarities he shared with Anthony Hope, he made his way back to Fleet Street and into his house just above that of his target. Despite what one might think when they look at the large man and learn about his profession as a butcher in the lower-middle class Fleet Street, Sweeney knew Albert Lovett had money. He was in no way as rich as Judge Turpin nor as some members of the London elite he'd had the chance to shave (and/or murder) over the years but he had quite enough. He'd noticed in the way he dressed, conservatively and functionally but with tailor-made pieces in high quality fabrics. Or in the way he splurged on his knifes, because only the finest sterling silver could have such a gleaming beauty. It was also in the alcoholic beverages he drunk, all darker in colour and richer in flavour than the poor-man's gin he and Eleanor shared every night before their businesses started booming. And in the way he was willing to pay off the Price family's debts, practically buying himself a bride.

Not for the first time he wondered how Eleanor had ended up penniless when the man she married had a small fortune hidden somewhere. It couldn't have all gone to bailing in her family... Perhaps he just ran out of money when he became ill, wasting pound after pound trying to reverse the results of a life full of excess: excessive eating, excessive drinking, excessive visits to the disease-ridden brothel two streets down... Well now he would not have much money to waste on ineffective treatments to delay the inevitable. He deserved to die, that perverted bastard, and the sooner, the better. He smirked, thinking of his plan. He was not going to kill him, not because he didn't want to but because he realised that if he were to build a future with Lucy and Johanna, he'd have to leave the murders behind. What would they think, if they saw him covered in blood? If one day he told them they had to leave the city, perhaps even England lest the police found him and hung him for his crimes? They wouldn't understand the thrill, the relief he felt and the favour he was actually doing them by getting rid of the vermin that inhabited that black hole called London. They were Benjamin Barker's family, naïve and soft-hearted as he once had been.

But he supposed his darker side could thrive a bit longer before he smothered it forever, at least until the problem named Eleanor was solved. And for that, Sweeney Todd was going to rob Albert Lovett, with some help from Arthur Haide. The plan was easy enough: find the money, steal the money and steal Eleanor before she married the depraved butcher. Then they would share the booty out, the lad and Eleanor would get enough to travel to Argentina, where Arthur already had a job looking for gold in the Tierra de Fuego province, and a few more pounds to start a new life there. Sweeney on his part would take as much as he needed to move elsewhere and open a proper tonsorial parlour. Money would start coming in faster and soon enough he would be able to afford buying a decent house in one of those relatively nice new areas in the outskirts of London. And Eleanor would be in the other side of the world, unable to dampen his happiness. Life would be perfect, he thought as he got into his bed, careful not to wake his wife, and fell asleep with a smirk that closely resembled a proper smile on his face. Mrs. Lovett was right, half the fun was to plan the plan.

The following day it was time to put said plan into motion. Given that he was the closest to Albert, it was his job to find where he hid the money. He knew it was probably in his home, as he did not seem one to trust banks, but to look for it, first he needed to get Albert out of the shop. He knew how to do so without arising suspicions. He walked over to the kitchenette and with the back of a hammer he started pulling at the firebox door until it was partially stuck, enough for one not to be able to open it with their bare hands. With a satisfied smirk plastered on his face, he walked towards his favourite spot, the large bay window and waited. Soon enough, he spotted his wife and daughter returning from their morning stroll, his little angel fussing in her mother's arms. Lucy explained she was hungry and approached the stove to heat up the milk for Johanna, but she couldn't open the door to light the fire. His daughter began to cry and Lucy asked him for help while she tried to calm her baby. He pretended to try and open it, but soon enough told her he couldn't do anything, that the best thing they could do was fetch Mr. Lovett. They actually met him at the threshold of his shop's door, as the man was on his way upstairs to complain about Johanna's incessant wailing.