Chapter 2
As I pull on the door handle and begin to step out of the car, one of the big oak doors swings open and Meredith appears, silhouetted in the entrance.
Although I haven’t seen her in years, I recognise her straight away.
Dad’s second wife. She’s tall and slim, with warm blonde hair twisted into a clip at the nape of her neck.
She smiles widely, coming towards me with her arms open for a hug.
“Katrina, there you are. Welcome back. How was the journey?” she asks, pulling back from the hug and looking between me and Ben, who reaches into the car boot and sets my bag on the gravel.
I smile awkwardly. After the almost wordless drive, Meredith seems very loud and very close.
“All good, ma’am. I think we made record time,” Ben responds, filling in for my silence. Although I’m not sure what he means by record time — I’ve been travelling since last night, and it’s mid-morning now.
“Excellent, thank you Ben.” She’s still beaming.
“I’ll leave you to get settled in then. Miss Katrina, it was nice meeting you.” He nods towards me, before walking around to the driver’s side of the car. The Audi pulls away again, tyres crunching as it heads back towards the town.
I look up at the house and then around Meredith, to the open front door. She realises what I’m looking for, or rather who, and grimaces a little.
“I’m sorry your father isn’t here to greet you. Apparently, there’s a big meeting at the university that he can’t miss. But he’ll be back in time for dinner, and Toby is around here somewhere. He’s been looking forward to you arriving all morning,” she says.
“Dad’s not even here?” I roll my eyes. Of course he isn’t. Of course something at his job is more important. I sigh and pick up my suitcase. Meredith walks beside me, her hand on the small of my back, guiding me towards the house.
“Katrina, I really am sorry about your mother. She was a wonderful woman. I hope you know that your father has really been looking forward to you coming here. We both have.” She sounds so sincere.
“I know you don’t think of this place as home anymore, since you left when you were only small, but we hope you can be happy here.
” I can feel her eyes on my face, but I keep looking ahead.
I don’t want to give into the tears again, not here in the driveway, in front of my stepmother.
“Thanks, Meredith,” I finally manage. We’ve reached the front door by now, and she pushes it open further to usher me inside.
The entrance hall is just as grand as I remember, with its black-and-white-tiled floor, high ceiling and staircase sweeping up to the first-floor landing. Not much seems to have changed.
“I’m also here for you any time you need a chat, or, well, anything,” Meredith continues, giving me a gentle smile.
“Thanks,” I say again, returning the smile weakly.
We make our way up the staircase and along the landing, Meredith leading the way, until she stops outside one of the doors on the right. She turns the brass door handle, pushes the door open, and I instantly recognise the pale pink bedroom inside. This used to be my room. I guess it is again.
“I’ll leave you to get unpacked then. But I mean it.
I know how upset you must be, so please come to me if you need anything at all.
” Meredith turns to leave. “Feel free to have a nosy around! This house is yours now too, of course.” She pauses.
“Your father’s only request is that you stay out of his study downstairs.
” With that, she heads back off the way we came and disappears down the staircase.
No problem. I have absolutely no desire to poke about in his study, and I have no idea why he’d think I would.
I step inside the bedroom, taking my case with me, and haul it onto the bed.
I plonk myself down next to it, kick off my shoes and look around.
Compared to the rest of the house, which seems dark and gothic, this bedroom is light and airy.
The window is large, the mid-morning sunlight streaming in and warming the light pink walls.
The dressing table and matching chair are a pale wood, as is the wardrobe standing in the corner.
I look at my case and wonder when the rest of my things will arrive.
Most of my clothes, my books and other personal belongings got shipped ahead, and I assume they’ll arrive in the next few days.
My mother must have painted this room. Yes, I’m sure I remember her in denim dungarees, hair scraped back and a paint roller in hand.
Handing me a small brush and my own tray of paint.
Telling me we needed to be serious and do a good job, but then dabbing me on the nose with the wet brush when I turned around, both of us laughing.
I focus on the memory. She had wanted this space to be different than the rest of the house, bright and inviting for her little girl.
That was the thing. My mother had never really suited this place.
This house was all Philip Van Tassel, passed down to him from generations of Van Tassels before.
Untouched and unchanging, nothing but cold floors and wood-panelled walls.
She’d moved in when they’d married, but it had never felt like home to her.
My father had allowed her to change this one room and nothing else, telling her that the rest of the house was history, and you couldn’t just rewrite history.
I hope she had been happy here, at some point. But I’m not so sure.
All I remember is being eight years old and my mother asking my father to move.
To a smaller house, but somewhere brighter, with more people around and more hustle and bustle.
He had refused. For months, she had tried to persuade him to pack up with her and go on an adventure, to try somewhere new, see what else was out there.
But he’d been adamant that his place was at Van Tassel Manor, and that he couldn’t leave it. His legacy was in Sleepy Hollow.
So we had left without him. I knew it had broken my mother’s heart to leave him, but it would have broken her more to stay.
I’m not sure I’ve ever really forgiven him for not coming with us, for choosing this place over his family.
And now I’m back. Without her.
Van Tassel Manor is my home for the foreseeable.