By the sea / Don’t you love the weather? / By the sea / We’ll grow old together...

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  Mrs. Lovett liked the outdoors. The garden, with its green vines and cheeping blackbirds, never failed to bring a smile to her face and a tear to her eye. Toby didn't have much of a thought on the outdoors. He and Pirelli had been in the country, but always just passing through.

  At least, not until one morning in early spring. The sun was shining weakly through the clouds, and Mrs. Lovett entered the pie shop with a picnic basket. She swung the "Closed" sign facing outside and said brightly to Toby, "Run up and get Mr. T, Toby. We're going to a park!"

  Nervously, Toby fetched the silent barber down, and they were off. They took a horse and carriage a little ways outside the city, to a big tree on a hill. The weather grew better during the trip, and by the time Mrs. Lovett laid the blanket, sunshine streamed through the leaves above their heads. Toby stared up at them, fascinated by how the sun made the leaves glow. Like some sort of fairy den!

  They ate lunch there under the tree, the smoke and soot of London seeming miles away. Meat pies (chicken today) and little custard tarts and apples Toby'd got on sale. Mr. Todd sat and stared blankly into the distance, as usual, saying nothing and barely touching his food. But Toby was going to enjoy himself, glum barber or no glum barber. He watched the wind lightly stir the grass, chased a squirrel, looked for creatures and countries and faces in the puffy white clouds. Mrs. Lovett was talking with Mr. Todd a ways away, but Toby couldn't hear them.

  And he didn't really care what they were saying. Not when bunnies hopped and dragons danced in the sky, far above him and the tree and the grassy hill.

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  "What's your favorite place outside, love?" Mrs. Lovett asked him as they strolled down the hill into a field of early spring flowers. Toby ran one hand over the tallest weeds, a bit embarrassed to answer.

  "Here, I suppose, ma'am," he said. "We never went out much in the workhouse. And Signior Pirelli – "

  "I expect he wasn't much of a one for leisure, was he, lad?"

  "No, ma'am."

  Mrs. Lovett plucked a flower from its tall stem and spun it between her fingers. "I like it here too," she mused. "But can I tell you about me favorite place?"

  Toby smiled. "Of course, ma'am."

  "When I was a girl, me rich Aunt Neddie used to take me to the seaside," she said. "Brighton, August bank holiday. We'd walk on the pier, build little castles in the sand. Ever been to the seaside, love?"

  Toby shook his head. "But I saw it once or twice," he said. "When the signior and I were traveling."

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  "Beautiful, ain't it?" she hummed. She stared off into the distance like Mr. Todd did sometimes, seeing something that was once there, but wasn't anymore. "I can still feel me toes wriggling around in the briny, hear the seagulls calling. Smell that sweet ocean wind."

  She smiled at Toby, but it was different than her normal smile. Not like the one she wore after a good day in the shop, or mooning over the barber. It was a sad, quiet little grin. "That's the life I covet, Toby: a life by the sea," she said. "If the business stays this good, I'd really like to go to some little seaside town. All three of us. In a year or so, maybe..."

  Mrs. Lovett's voice trailed off, and she looked back up the hill. Mr. Todd was up there still, staring down at London, his back to them. Toby fidgeted a little before asking. "Does Mr. Todd want to go?"

  She gave one short, quick laugh. "He says he does, love. We was talking about it earlier today. 'Anything you say,' he said." She looked back down at the flower in her hand before letting it fall. "But you know how he gets."

  "Like he weren't listening at all." Toby didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out, the thought born of a long, long time watching Mrs. Lovett swoon over a man who wouldn't even look at her. Even after all she did, all both she and Toby did, to help him...

  He wondered if she might scold him for it. But instead, she just looked at him and put one arm around his shoulders. "Yes," she said softly.

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  A few days later, Toby overheard them. Up outside the barbershop, he was sweeping the stair landing. Mrs. Lovett was inside, giving Mr. Todd a trim; he'd been giving both her and Toby lessons. Even with the door closed, and try as he might not to be nosy, the wooden walls were thin.

  "Mr. T, can I ask you a question?" In the pause, the barber must've nodded, because Mrs. Lovett continued. "Your Lucy...can you remember what she looked like?"

  Another long pause. Lucy? Toby wondered if that was the pretty lady in the picture. He got his answer fast. Mrs. Lovett said gently, "Can't picture her, can you? Not without that photo."

  "She had yellow hair." The barber's reply was soft, softer than he usually spoke. Mrs. Lovett's scissor-snipping went quiet, and Toby's curiosity got the better of him. He peeked through the window to see her coming towards Mr. Todd, seated in his fancy chair. Slowly, like you'd get close to an angry dog. She sighed deeply, standing just behind his shoulder.

  "You've got to leave this all behind you," Mrs. Lovett said, as if she'd said it a lot before. "She's gone, and life is for the alive, my dear."

  Todd said nothing, turning away from her to look out the window. Mrs. Lovett hesitated before putting a hand on his arm. "We could have a life, us two," she went on. "Maybe not like I dreamed...maybe not like you remember..."

  She trailed off, and with a jolt, Toby saw one hand come up to her eyes. She passed off the movement as pushing her red hair-band back again, but there was no mistaking the thickness in her voice. "But we could get by. Us and Toby too...we could get by."

  Very slowly, Mr. Todd stood up and examined his haircut in the mirror. His eyebrows raised in surprise – Looks pretty good, Toby could almost hear him thinking – and he faced Mrs. Lovett. His dark, sunken eyes went down, to meet hers. It looked as if he was actually seeing her for once. Almost unbidden, Toby thought it: C'mon, you idiot, listen to her...

  The barber reached out, put one hand on the baker's shoulder. He kept staring at her. "Nellie," he began. But then –

  "Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd!" Toby nearly jumped out of his skin as Anthony the sailor came thundering up the stairs. "Mr. Todd, Mrs. Lovett, ma'am!" He hurtled through the barbershop door, the bell swinging wildly. Damn it. Toby snatched up his broom and marched back downstairs just as Anthony ranted, "That horrible judge has her locked up in a madhouse. Fogg's Asylum, it's a fortress and he has – "

  "Johanna," Mr. Todd said quietly.