𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 & 𝐂𝐥𝐲𝐝𝐞〚BRAHMS HEELSHIRE〛✅

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓓𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 17

Evelyn sat at the head of the table a plate and fork in front of her. She had been told and agreed that Malcolm would be staying for dinner. Honestly, Evelyn hated the idea that someone else had entered her game too early but she had to play it cool.

At the dining table, seated on her right was Greta. They both chatted small until Malcolm came bursting out of the kitchen, holding a baking dish full of steaming food. "Ta-da!" He sets the baking dish down revealing what looks like hot dogs placed in a kind of uncooked dough. Not exactly appetizing. "Toad-in-the-hole. Just like my mother used to make it." Evelyn bit back her smile as she places her wine glass down carefully, questioning, "Toad?" Malcolm scoops some out and puts it on Greta's plate much to the nanny's displeasure as she was hungry for a toad. "Not to worry. Just a name. Our food's so bland, we've been forced to give it exotic-sounding names to make it more exciting. If we'd invented the hamburger we'd have called it 'The Gleaming Jewel of Ipswich Sandwich' or something."

"No, having actually toad tonight might be interesting," Evelyn smile cheekily at the grocery boy who in return blushed as he sits down and watches Greta take her first bite. Evelyn too stares at her, waiting for a comment before she chows down her plate. Greta takes a bite and chews cautiously, she looks a little surprised, "Not bad."

Their dinner was smooth like any friends their age. Conversing and laughing, drinking wine, and eating Malcolm's dish. They were surprised when Evelyn drown her 2 bottles of wine by herself but was as strong and sober as ever.

Malcolm glanced at Evelyn, since Greta was between them he needed to title his head slightly. He notices that Evelyn had changed into a button-up white shirt and a pair of black pants to her sundress this morning. But what got her attention was when Evelyn stretch her head to her side to sip her wine, her shirt open revealing her cleavage which was covered with hickeys and bite marks. Almost looked like a beast had gnawed her.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Malcolm unintentionally spoke his question out loud. Greta gave him a confused look before staring at where Malcolm's gaze has been, and there she too saw. Evelyn stare down at herself, she had raised an eyebrow in amusement, somewhat glad they were more focused on Brahms's work than her devil necklace that lingers on her chest too. "You could say that," she shrugged not even bothered to hide her exposed chest as she sips more of her wine, "one who loves to bite."

Evelyn smirked wide seeing Greta's face turn red. The nanny would never imagine her having such a wild sex life, especially with how poise and mature Evelyn was around her.

The topic had somehow turned to Evelyn. She never talked much about her private life, and knowing just that she had a partner made Malcolm and Greta more curious about her. Greta asked the last question, "What exactly is your work. I see you with expensive dresses and all but you're here every day." The dinner had been devoured as clean plates sat before each of them.

Evelyn hummed before answering the nanny's question, something wicked per into her eyes as she spoke, "Here's the fun thing about having murdered parents. I get Daddy's money to spend as I please." Ignoring the first statement, Malcolm was able to laugh to know that Evelyn was a spoiled little girl. But unlike Malcolm, Greta stares at Evelyn with a different look. Evelyn's statement about her parents made her start to somewhat fear the girl but immediately uphold a smile when Evelyn made eye contact with her due to her lack of laughter in her comment.

Evelyn gave her a smirk, her eyes gleaming with something but Greta kept a nervous smile sipping her drink and changing the conversation to Malcolm.

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Greta scrapes the remaining food into a big Tupperware dish. It's the one rule handed down from the Heelshires she follows. She hands the scraped dishes to Malcolm who washes them in the sink. Evelyn had left the two, somewhere in the house.

The two chatted away normally, a few flirts here and there but stopped a second when two loud creaks like heavy steps. The kind someone would dismiss as a house 'settling'. Both Greta and Malcolm look up at the ceiling and then at each other, eyes big. "Well, I'm glad this isn't a big, empty creepy house or that would have been a little spooky, yeah?" he tries to joke which Greta simply smiles at him. Both minds decided to conclude that it must have been Evelyn despite knowing the girl would have no such heavy steps to her.

"Tell me more about Brahms." A shift in Malcolm's face - not a subject he wants to talk about. "I told you about all I know." / "Wow. That was truly a terrible poker face. Like one of the worst ever." Malcolm smiles - a serious kind of smile, as if he knows he's been caught and doesn't like what's coming next.

"Okay. What do you want to know?" Malcolm asks, going back to his cleaning to somewhat distract himself. "How did he die?" Malcolm lets a dish settle underneath the soapy water. Dries his hands, giving full attention to the nanny. "First, you need to know that Norwich tends to have two kinds of talk. Polite talk and pub talk. And the truth is usually somewhere in between."

Greta frown at this, she didn't think a child's death could be so hard to find out. "So what's the polite talk?" He sighs, "That it's no one's business but the Heelshire's." Greta shuck in her disappointment at his answer but continue, wanting to know at least something new tonight, "And the pub talks?"

"That there was a car crash. Or that Brahms was sick. I've even heard people say that the Heelshires killed him. Which is rubbish. I've known them most of my life and there's no gentler, kinder, more decent people in all of England."

Greta to a second to process that, almost hesitating to know that she has gotten this far, "And the truth?"

"A few years ago I came out here to make a delivery. It was Brahms's birthday - or would have been. Mrs Heelshire was in the living room, opening presents with the doll. Mr Heelshire was in here, drunk." Malcolm sigh, leaning his back against the sink as he frowns remembering the memory, "I come in and he's mumbling to himself, just kind of low and sad, about how he can't do it anymore. I tell him I'll come back another time, but he says, "No, come in. Sit down. Have a drink with me." So I do."

"What happened?" Greta was curious to know, but her voice was gentle, now understanding that Malcolm felt guilty to be talking about this to her.

"We get a couple of drinks in just chatting about the weather and so on and I finally get the courage to ask him. How did Brahms, the real Brahms die? He looks at me. Kind of shakes his head as if even he doesn't know anymore. And he says, "Can a boy die because of his devotion to a girl?" And I tell him, "I suppose he could." Malcolm played with his fingers, not once through this story did he look up at Greta.

"Then that's what it was," he says. And then he excused himself and said he'd better get to the birthday party or he was going to catch hell from the missus. So I guess, maybe, that's as close to an answer as any of us are ever going to get."