We Could Get By

x.

Nellie watched the stars from the safety of the front porch. They blinked down at her as if passing along some secret that no one else could decipher. It would be wrong to rouse Sweeney from his sleep, she knew, though she could not help but want to share the stillness of that moment with him. Whether or not he would appreciate it was a different matter entirely, but at the very least he would be present.

Mrs. Lovett knew she was not a difficult woman to please, but that only should have served to make things easier for Sweeney if he bothered putting in a scrap of effort now and then. Her husband had his moments, though they seemed to be few and far between lately. Sometimes he was in the mood to humor her, other days he looked right through her. The man who had fallen, at last, into some bit of domestic comfort, seemed to have vanished and left his shadow lingering behind. She pulled her knees to her chest in a vain attempt to block the chill of the night air. Her pale pink nightgown was fine for the warmth of the house, but not for the cool wind that the sea brought to their door.

He had not mentioned the absence of Lucy's portrait, though he had reverted to solemn silence since the night Nellie had found it smashed to bits on the floor of his shop. To be fair, he had not mentioned much of anything at all the last few days. Even that morning at breakfast, while he sat brooding over his eggs and toast, she could not manage to get more than two or three words out of him. With Nellie's luck, he knew exactly where it had gone, and he was plotting out his terrible vengeance while she slept obliviously beside him. Whatever spark of goodness that had settled in his chest had been extinguished, and she felt the sting of its absence with every passing hour.

But what's there to do?

Sweeney would come back around eventually. He always did. The door behind her squeaked open, startling her to her feet. It was only Toby, squinty and small in his rumpled pajamas. She put her hand over her heart and sunk back down onto the step.

"Gave me a fright, ya did! What are ya doin' up, love? 'S late." Nellie motioned for him to sit beside her on the top porch step anyway, scooting to one side to make room for him. Somewhere in the grass, a cricket struck up a chirpy sonata that filled the air 

"Sorry, mum. I had a nightmare." His voice was small and far away, so unlike the cheerful personality he inhabited during the day. Nellie combed her fingers through his unruly mop of hair. How lucky she was, truly, to have had the good sense to keep him around. He was one thing she could count on never to change.

"'Bout what, darling?"

Toby stared down at his hands, eyes wide as if even the memory of a thing that had not happened was too great for him to bear. "'Bout you. It was- ya got killed. It was Mister Todd what done it- you was lyin' on the floor and he had blood all over 'im."

"Blood? Oh, lad, c'mere now. You know it's jus' a nightmare." Nellie pulled the boy close and leaned her head against his. "Only a silly nightmare. What business would Mister T 'ave, goin' 'round killin people for?"

Toby shrugged halfheartedly, relaxing against her side. "I'unno, but it was awful, mum. I thought I was gonna find ya dead out there for sure."

"Look 'ere, dear, Mister T ain't never gonna hurt us. We've talked about this before, love. I didn't think you was scared of 'im no more."

"Does he love ya?"

Nellie fixed her gaze on the brightest star she could find. It looked like a diamond, suspended carefully in the blackest of velvet. Star light, star bright... "He certainly does. He's a lot of things, that poor, sweet man- but he loves us." She thought of the way his hands felt on her hips, the hunger in his eyes and his kiss; that was love, wasn't it? Or perhaps it was just that he was starved for affection, desperate for the love she gave him freely. He killed for her, every single day. No, that's not right. He killed for himself, to feed his own insatiable appetite for bloodshed and control.