As usual, you mainly had small talk with your mum. Nothing interesting ever happened in the pie shop, so the days dragged on and on and savings were slowly dwindling. Your thoughts started going back to the times when things actually happened, business was never better and you had the lovely Barker family in the flat above you.

"Why does meat have to be so expensive?" You complained, leaning onto your mum's shoulder, who was sitting next to you at one of the many empty tables at the shop. You slapped the table after a moment to squash a bug before getting up and walking to the counter. A ball of dough sat there, waiting to be moulded into a pie crust. Your mum walked into the other room, and that's when you heard the bell of the shop door ring to indicate someone has entered.

You look up to see who it was and you were rendered speechless with who you saw standing there. He was tall and pale, of medium build, and he had black hair that puffed up and curled at the ends with a white strip near the top right corner. You were snapped out of your daze after a second when you realized you hadn't said anything.

"A customer!" You exclaimed before walking over to him and bringing him to a booth before he got the chance to leave. "Wait! What's your rush, what's your hurry? You gave me such a... Fright, I thought you were a ghost! Half a minute, can't you sit? Sit ye down, sit! All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks. Did ya come here for a pie, sir?" You questioned as you handed him a pie before you walked back to the counter to whack your rolling pin against the dough to flatten it a bit.

"Do forgive me if my head's a little vague. Ugh, what is that? But you'd think we had the plague from the way that people keep avoiding!" You stomped on a cockroach before looking back at the man. He looked so confused and scared, poor lad. "Heaven knows I try, sir! But there's no one comes in even to inhale! Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?" You filled up a mug of said alcoholic beverage before continuing to rant about.

"Mind you I can hardly blame them! These are probably the worst pies in London. I know why nobody cares to take them! I should know! I make them! But good? No. The worst pies in London, even that's polite! The worst pies in London! If you doubt it, take a bite!" You paused for a moment to watch him bite into the pie you handed him earlier. His face went blank and you could see the disgust in his face without it needing to be physically shown.

"Is that just, disgusting? You have to concede it! It's nothing but crusting! Here drink this, you'll need it. The worst pies in London..." He spat out the piece of the pie that was in his mouth and you handed him the mug of ale you filled up earlier before hitting the dough a few times again. "And no wonder with the price of meat, what it is when you get it. Never thought I'd live to see the day. Men'd think it was a treat, findin' poor animals what are dyin' in the street.

"Mrs Mooney has a pie shop. Does a business, but I notice something weird. Lately, all her neighbours' cats have disappeared." You saw him make a movement as if he was going to ask something, but you didn't give him a chance to speak before continuing. "Have to hand it to her! What I call enterprise! Poppin' pussies into pies!" He went back to his usual position at his seat. He must've wanted to ask if the pies were the reason the cats disappeared.

"Wouldn't do in my shop!" You now started rolling out the dough in front of you. "Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick! And I'm telling you them pussycats is quick." He looked at you with an odd expression, but no comment was made. "No denying times is hard, sir! Even harder than the worst pies in London. Only lard and nothing more.  Is that just revolting?" You carefully picked up the dough with your rolling pin and laid it over the pie without realising a bug had crawled into it.

"All greasy and gritty? It looks like it's moulting! And tastes like..." "Well, pity." You heard your mum join in as she walked into the room to help you put the pies in the oven upstairs. "Two women alone...with limited wind... And the worst pies in London!" Your mum walked back into the back room to let you continue. "Ah, sir... Times is hard... Times is hard." You finished as you smacked your rolling pin against a bug crawling along the counter. You noticed the male looking into his mug of ale and hesitantly taking a drink out of the corner of your eye before he gagged lightly.

"Trust me, it's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out." You mention before motioning him to the living quarters of the flat, where your mother was already preparing a glass of gin. "Isn't that a room up there, above the shop?" He speaks up for the first time since he walked in. God, his voice was so hot, as if his looks weren't enough.

You nod softly before he continues. "If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?" "Up there?" Your mum responds to him as she hands him the glass of gin. "Oh, no one will go near it. People think it's-" You finished her sentence for her by saying "Haunted." His expression changed in an instant. "Well, what happened?"

"It's quite a long story, so I hope you have the time."  You started as he sat down in the chair that was next to you to show that he was ready. "There was a barber and his wife, and he was beautiful... A proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life. And he was beautiful..."