“Sorry, my fault. Sorry.”
“No, no, sorry. After you.”
We both apologise, talking over each other, laughing as we both step to go the same way again. Chuckling, he takes a big step backwards and extends his arm.
“Ladies first. I insist,” he says, inclining his head in mock chivalry.
“Why thank you, sir. Most kind.” I keep up the pretence, nodding as I step past him.
“I’m Brom, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” he says, smiling.
“Ah yeah, I’ve just moved in. Well, I guess moved back. I did live here before, years ago. I’m up at the Van Tassel Manor…”I trail off, a little bit embarrassed about staying in such a large house, and referring to it as amanor.
He squints, looking at me a bit more closely.
“Wait, Kat? Kat Van Tassel? Is it actually you?” he says in surprise.
I must give him a blank look, because he carries on.
“It’s Brom.” He points to himself. “Brom Bones. We went to primary school together!”
I take in his black skinny jeans, red and black checked shirt, and leather boots. His dark brown, almost black hair, flops over his eyes. Now that I look again, he does look familiar. “Oh my god, yes, Brom! I do remember! How have you been?”
We hug, and I awkwardly try not to spill coffee down his back.
“Yeah, not bad, not bad. I work for my dad now, you know, still in the baking business.” He points inside. “These guys are one of our customers. How about you? How come you’re back?”
I hesitate slightly, not really wanting to get into it all while stood on the street.
“Oh, I’ve come back to stay with my dad for a bit. Not sure how long, though. There doesn’t seem to be much around here.”
“Ha, yeah, I get that. It is a quiet town, but it does have its upsides, you know. Look I’ve got to run, but here’s my number, if you do stick around for a bit and fancy catching up properly?”
He pulls an old receipt out of his pocket and tears it in half. Scribbling his number down on one half, he hands me the pen to do the same on the other. We exchange the scraps of paper, and promise to meet again, before he hurries inside the café.
Unsurprisingly, the town doesn’t have much to offer, so I start to walk back towards the house. Along the cobbled streets, past the ancient bandstand and up the tree-lined road.
Back in my room, I kick my boots off and flop down on the bed.God, this town is dull.I roll onto my stomach and notice the KVTdiary I had tossed there earlier. Curious about what life would have been like all those years ago, I pull it towards me and flick to the first page.
October 8, 1819
Dearest diary, how perfectly splendid you are, with your smooth leather binding and brushed brass corners. And my initials embossed on the cover! Father does pay such close attention to every detail. Every birthday, he bestows me with a gift better than the last year.
He says he has given me this diary as a gift for my sixteenth birthday, with hopes that I shall take up writing. I fear he expects far too much of me. I have never been one to sit with a quill for long, nor to fill pages with my thoughts. But perhaps I shall try, if only to please him. Perhaps this will become my newest pastime.
Today has been a most glorious day, not only for my birthday, but because tonight is the autumn ball. I have waited all year and finally, the event of the season is here again. I can hardly contain my excitement. The air is crisp with the scent of fallen leaves, and the trees glow red and gold in the afternoon sun. It is the perfect night for dancing.
Father is hosting here, at the Van Tassel Manor, and I do so enjoy a dance. Mother has been overseeing the catering all morning, and I’m sure it will be a feast the town is unlikely to forget. She frets over every dish, every arrangement of fruit and meats, as though the success of the evening rests solely upon the dinner table. I should like to tell her that no one truly cares for such things — not when there is music and laughter and the chance to waltz beneath the candelabras.
I must cut my first entry short. Lucy will soon be here, to help me bathe and braid my hair. I have seen my dress for tonightand goodness, it is beautiful. I do, however, wonder how I shall breathe in a corset as tight as this one.
October 9, 1819
Well, dearest diary, who would have thought I would be back to write in you so soon! But my, what a tale I have to tell. I must write it down before I forget any detail of the magical night.
This year’s autumn ball has been the best I have experienced yet. It was everything I had dreamed it would be and more. The music, the candlelight, the swirling gowns and polished boots upon the floor — it was as though I had stepped into a dream.
The house had been adorned with foliage from the woods, with ivy wrapped around the staircase, russet wreaths upon the doors and centrepieces of wood and ferns on the tables. The Sleepy Hollow townspeople turned out in their finest garments, the ladies sporting the latest fashions from London. The fire in the hearth had been built up all afternoon and was roaring by dusk fall.
