Chapter 6
When I wake up, thin light is streaming in through the curtains.
I lie there for a while, thinking through the events of the day before.
What a long day. First, the seemingly never-ending journey to get here, and then the house and the town, both stagnant and stuck in time.
Reconnecting with my family and an old friend.
Finding an heirloom from my long-gone ancestor.
Meeting the intriguing Ichabod Crane had been the highlight of the day, only for it all to end on such an unsettling and frankly bizarre note when Dad told us about the death of the town doctor.
It had been quite a pleasant dinner until that point. Although, despite Meredith and Toby both assuring me Dad had been looking forward to my arrival, he didn’t seem all that happy that I’m here.
I roll over on to my back and stare at the ceiling.
Something is off. How could he possibly believe a man beheaded in his office was an accident? It makes no sense. What kind of accident would lead to that? How would that even happen? Did he slip on his own scalpel? Tangle and garrotte himself on the blinds?
And if it really was an accident, why was Dad so worried about me walking into town on my own, and warning me not to go out after dark? Something doesn’t add up. I’m not normally such a suspicious person, but he definitely knew more than he was letting on last night about Dr Larpin’s death.
Well, I’m not staying in this house all day. Fuck that.
I yawn and stretch.
Should I even stay here at all? It wasn’t my mother’s choice to live here, and it certainly isn’t mine.
What will I even do in such a small town?
Get a job in one of the local shops? Go to the university where my father is headmaster?
But if I left, where would I go? The reason I’m back here is because I don’t have anywhere else to go.
I don’t have any other family that I could stay with.
I push the covers back and reluctantly climb out of bed, grateful for the thick carpet in this room to press my toes into.
Hugging my arms across my chest, I move to the window and open the curtains.
Yesterday had been cold but bright. Today seems dark and gloomy, as if the sun is struggling to make it past the clouds. I sigh.
As I glance around the room for a pair of joggers to pull on, my phone pings from the dressing table. I pick it up and see a text on the home screen.
Got time for a coffee this morning? Brom x
I didn’t expect him to get in touch so soon. But given that I have no plans for this morning, today, or in fact any of my time here, I decide I may as well go and meet him.
After a quick shower, I pull on some leather-look leggings, a chunky black roll neck jumper, and my boots. I quickly braid my hair and add a small amount of makeup, checking my reflection in the mirror before heading out the door.
The corridors are quiet, and I don’t see anyone as I leave through the main entrance and walk across the driveway.
About half an hour later, I meet Brom by the old bandstand.
“Morning, Van Tassel,” Brom greets me as I walk up, pushing off from the wooden post he was leaning against.
“Morning,” I return. “Lovely day for it.” I point up at the gloomy sky.
He laughs, “Yeah, but at least it’s not raining!”
“Same place as yesterday?” I ask as we start to walk towards the shops.
“I was thinking I’d show you somewhere new today, if you’re up for it,” he replies, grinning.
I follow his lead and soon we turn right down a side street, one I didn’t explore yesterday, and continue walking until we reach a shop painted in a dark blue.
This coffee shop isn’t anything like the one from yesterday.
In fact, it’s more of a book shop. Shelves of paperbacks line the walls, and more are piled up on tables dotted here and there.
There are comfy-looking sofas and wingback chairs with low coffee tables next to them spread out around the room.
“You always had your nose in a book as a kid. I figured you might like this shop,” Brom says gleefully. “They do much better coffee than the place yesterday, too,” he adds, winking.
The shop has herbs and crystals lined up on the windowsill, and I can smell incense burning somewhere, warm and floral.
At the other end is a counter holding a display of cakes and a big, gold coffee machine.
A woman with straight, pale blonde hair is sat reading a book, a tapestry of intricate woven symbols hanging behind her.
We head to the back and the woman looks up, smiling.
“Brom, hi! What can I get you guys?” she asks warmly, her grey eyes sparkling in the light. She’s wearing several bangles and layered necklaces, all adorned with charms which clink together as she sets her book face down on the counter.
“Morning, Pop. This is Katrina.” He indicates me. “And Katrina, this is Poppy,” he introduces us. “Just two of the usuals please.”
“Sure, no problem.” She stands up and gestures around the room, to more clinking bracelets. “I’ll bring them over, so feel free to have a browse.”
The book she’s left on the counter doesn’t appear to have a title or an author, just an image of a pentacle carved into the front cover. Spooky. Despite Poppy’s bubbly demeanour, looking at that book makes the hair prickle at the nape of my neck.
I drift away from the counter, wondering where to start.
There are books literally everywhere. I examine the shelf next to me, running my fingers along the spines and pulling out a few that look the most interesting.
Stepping over to the table closest to me, I pick up a book with a dark red cover and turn it over. A crime thriller. That reminds me.
“Did you hear about the doctor?” I ask Brom, who is a few feet away, studying the back of a book that seems to be about camping.
“Yes,” he grimaces. “Found with no head. What a grisly way to go.”
“It must have been a horrible accident,” I say, thinking back to what Dad had told us last night. “But I can’t even begin to imagine how something like that happens,” I shake my head sadly, returning the book I’ve been holding to its original spot on the table.
“Here you are.” Poppy appears with two steaming mugs topped with foam, passing one to me.
“Thanks.” I take a sip, tasting coffee and chai. Very autumnal, and definitely better than yesterday’s pumpkin spice latte.
As I lower the mug from my lips, I spot the table to my right and the book proudly propped up in the middle of all the others. I lean over and pick it up.
“The History of Sleepy Hollow?” I turn it over to look at the blurb on the back. “This town has its own history book? What’s happened here that’s interesting enough to write a whole book about?” I ask Brom, scoffing a bit as I hold the book up for him to see.
“Of course it does. It’s all about the legend. Don’t you remember?” He plucks the book from my outstretched hand. As he does so, the lights in the shop flicker and dim ever so slightly.
“Umm.” I bite the corner of my lip and think about it.
“Kat! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the legend of Sleepy Hollow!
” he exclaims. I look back at him blankly, so he continues.
“The town is cursed. It all started hundreds of years ago, when an outsider came to Sleepy Hollow and fell in love with the daughter of the wealthiest landowner in town. They planned to run away together, but her father found out and stopped them. He locked the daughter up in his house and had the stranger beheaded. The legend says that he rode around town as a headless horseman, cutting people down with his sword in revenge. If you believe all that.”
The sound of the doorbell chiming jolts me from his story, as another customer enters the shop, the cold wind whipping inside before the door can close again.
Brom pauses and looks sideways dramatically. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t returned in time for Halloween…” he trails off suggestively.
“Oh, yeah. I do remember that story, vaguely.” I roll my eyes. “But fortunately, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Well, I mean, Dr Larpin was beheaded, and it’s only a week until Halloween now.” He raises his eyebrows. I catch his meaning.
“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you really think that poor man was struck down by some sort of sword-wielding ghost?” I ask incredulously.
He laughs at my expression, shrugging.
“That’s awful. Think of the doctor’s poor family,” I say, knocking his shoulder playfully with mine.
“You’re right.” He holds his hands up in mock defence. “Sorry, sorry.”
Outside the warm shop, the cobblestone pavements are slick, as if it’s recently rained.
The streets are shrouded in a restless kind of quiet, as though the town itself is holding its breath following the death of one of its townspeople.
I walk beside Brom, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as the cool autumn air bites at my cheeks.
I wish I’d grabbed my scarf this morning.
Above us, the sky is a swirl of grey, heavy clouds threatening to break open at any moment.
“I’ll never understand why they didn’t pave these damn roads properly,” I mutter, my boots slipping on the uneven stones.
Brom chuckles, his wide shoulders hunched against the chill. “And ruin the charm of Sleepy Hollow? You’d never hear the end of it if they did. Besides, where’s the excitement in walking down the street without the fear you’ll twist an ankle?”
I give him a side-eye but can’t help the small smirk that tugs at my lips. I’m glad I bumped into my old friend again. It’s nice having someone around to make me smile.