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11 . Toffee´s Christmas
     
    I When Toffee Brown moved to
Knavesborough, no one noticed her the first few weeks. She could
just as well have been a ghost. Perhaps she was? No, surely she
would have noticed. She tried to poke a finger through her own body
and wailed loudly. These country bumpkins just chose to ignore her!
How inconsiderate!
    She, however,
noticed her neighbour in the adjacent house. The blind man in the
wheelchair with the afghan coverlet and the blue-eyed cat
constantly on his lap. She especially noticed that each time they
passed each other on the pavement, the cat ignored her, while the
man seemed to be following her with his eyes, but of course that
was impossible. Toffee, you are losing it, she whispered to
herself.
    Every day she made up her face
as carefully as always, she did her white hair and put on her
tailored, pink coat before she went out to walk Tweedledee, her
snow white Pekinese. But invariably, her new neighbours would pay
more attention to Tweedle than to herself. Especially the cat which
glared as if it wanted to pounce on her poor little doggie. And she
had a creepy feeling that its blind owner was laughing at her.
    Whenever she passed a shop
window, she checked her elegant figure among the glittering
Christmas decorations and made sure her beret sat at just the right
angle. Nothing wrong with her, as far as she could see.
    “Trimming our feathers, are
we?”
    Toffee jumped, fearing she would
have a heart attack.
    “Didn´t mean to scare you, Ms
Brown. I am Agatha Mistletoe, your new neighbour. Jim Partridge´s
nurse.” Miss Mistletoe´s creased face cracked up in a broad smile
much like the vigilant cat´s.
    “Oh, the gentleman in the
wheelchair?” Toffee was not sure he was what she´d consider a real
gentleman, but she never forgot her manners.
    “Sure.” Miss Mistletoe barked.
“Mr Partridge is our local antique dealer. Old knick-knacks are his
speciality.” She tilted her head and sized Toffee up.
    “Have a good day, Miss
Thistlemoe.” Toffee spun around and dragged Tweedledee back so fast
his short legs hardly touched the pavement, wishing she had never
heard about Knavesborough.
     
     
    II A few days later Rhapsody and
Psalmonella Gershwin, the vicar´s daughters, came across the
newcomer while shopping in the local grocery.
    “Isn´t that Miss Brown?”
Psalmonella nudged her sister.
    “No, it can´t… Dear me, I´m
afraid you´re right. Do you think she was caught up in a duel
between a couple of graffiti painters?” Rhapsody bit her lip to
keep herself from laughing out loud. Her first impression of Toffee
Brown had been a non-descript granny who suited her name
admirably.
    Unfortunately, Miss Brown ambushed them with her trolley
before Rhapsody could gain control of her wicked grin. Resolutely,
she bent down to pat the chubby little dog before she had to face
its owner. Toffee´s fluffy, white curls had been coloured pink and
green like a peppermint cane.
    “Hello, Tweedledee. Good
dog.”
    Psalmonella was the better
actress. “How nice to meet you, Miss Brown. I hope you are settling
down in Knavesborough?”
    “ W ell, it´s a bit quiet up here,
isn´t it? When one is used to the bright city lights…” Toffee Brown
muttered.
    “So you lived in a city before
you came here?”
    “I did indeed. In the limelight,
you might say.” She leaned forward, whispering theatrically.
    “ In the
limelight, even. Then I understand that we must seem a bit trivial
for your taste,” Rhapsody smiled.
    “You see; Toffee Brown is not my
real name. It´s a pseudonym.” Toffee stepped so close to the
sisters that they could inhale her latest cup of coffee and screwed
up her blue eyes. Nice eyes, actually, if she hadn´t stuck so much
goo around them.
    Rhapsody took pity on her. “A
pseudonym. But why, Miss Brown?”
    “I write novels! Romances!
World-famous bestsellers. But I came here because I needed a rest.
“
    “ I see. I´m
sure you have come to the right