Act XII: New Beginnings

It was only a few months later when Turpin received a frenzied, messily scrawled plea for help. It gave him a familiar address on Fleet Street, and told him to come right away. He thought about throwing the letter away, but something told him not to. Probably boredom, for he certainly stopped feeling guilt years ago. Though that may have been the ability to feel his legs, which he had lost with the gout.

When he arrived at the tiny pie shop, it was a mess. People were packed in the place, screaming nonsense and demanding more ale. The woman charge looked frantic and ready to collapse from exhaustion. Feeling overwhelmed, Turpin went outside to clear his head.

Up above, he could hear a clear, eerie voice. "Rock a bye baby, in the treetops, when the wind blows, the cradle will rock." Suddenly, he saw two pale white arms dangle a small, chubby child by its legs. "When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall, and down will come baby…" the arms started swinging the child. Surely she wasn't going to…

"Stop!" The arms stopped. He ran upstairs, up to the apartment.

Sure enough, it was Lucy Barker. Her hair was wild and unkempt, and her clothes dirty. She had put the baby down on the floor, and started spinning around in circles, singing Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush. Quickly, Turpin snatched the baby and went downstairs. Lucy laughed.

"Madam!" he screamed over the crowd.

"Wot?" She was busy trying to hear everyone's orders (but mostly complaints.)

"Why is the woman upstairs mad?"

"Wot?" she screamed. The baby started to cry, and stain his shirt. He was getting irritated.

"Why is the woman upstairs mad?"

"ARSENIC!" She screamed. The customers stopped talking.

"Is there arsenic in the pies?" One of them asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised," exclaimed another. Panic rose in the customers, and with a sudden sense of urgency, they rushed out.

"Now look wotchu did!" she berated him. "All my customers are gone!"

"Now you have time to take care of them." He pointed upstairs.

"WOT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING? EVERY BLOODY DAY! I have no time for myself, taking care of those two, my own husband, and making sure the business stays afloat. I'm up at dawn, and I… actually, I can't remember the last time I slept. Well, you know what, Mister High-and-Mighty, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I'VE 'AD IT! You try taking care of it all."

"I'm sure I'd do a better job." he retorted.

"BE MY GUEST! TAKE HER, AND THE BABY!" Her face was almost purple. She huffed, and puffed, and after having spent what little was left of her energy, she collapsed. Turpin threw some water on her, and she sputtered, but came to. After a few deep breaths, she was ready to listen to him.

" I see you are unfit to take care of Mrs. Barker, and unwilling to."

"You got that right."

"So, I am going to send her to an institution. Do not worry about the cost, I will pay for it."

"Where to?"

"Bedlam." She nodded. "What about the baby?"

"Surely you can manage that."

"Can't sorry." He looked at the mewing thing in his arms. It was fat, red, loud, and quite hideous with its face scrunched up like that. Turpin sighed. He never cared for children, actually, he hated them. He wondered for a moment what he had done to deserve this.

"Very well, I'll take it. But you'll never see the child again." The woman didn't get to say anything in response. He set the infant on one of the nearby tables, and made a mental note to send someone over later to tranquilize the whole lot. Heaven knows they would need it.