He was gone.
While waiting for my heart to skitter into its usual rhythm, I turned back to the vast room, studying every inch, from the shiny floorboards to the decorative patterns that ran around the edge of the ceiling. Everything about the room was extravagant; opulent fabrics, exquisite furniture, it positively reeked of money, and my dad, who never had much of anything, had walked away from it all.
Dragging my backpack over to the bed, I heaved us both onto the mattress and walked my fingertips up the embroidered bedspread, spiralling patterns picked out in gold thread: more leaves, more vines. When I lay down, the bed rose up to hold me, wrapping me in a comforting, secure softness. Bliss. Even the most sensitive princess in the world would have struggled to feel a brick under this mattress, let alone a pea. Sitting up, I opened my backpack and took out the silver photo frame inside, unfolding the three connected apertures and placing it carefully on my bedside table. One side of the frame held a photo of my mom, tall and blonde and beautiful, with an open, laughing smile and enormous blue eyes. On the other side of the frame, I saw my dad, her opposite, dark hair, dark eyes, playful smirk. All our other pictures and mementos were lost years ago in one of our moves, making this all the more important. I used to stare at it for hours, wishing I had blonde hair like hers, wondering where my green eyes came from. Now I knew.
In the centre frame was a close-up picture of the two of them wearing matching black and gold sweaters, standing in front of a tree. My dad’s arms were wrapped tightly aroundmy mom and both of them were grinning like they’d solved world peace, won the lottery and scored face-value Taylor Swift tickets all on the same day. Had he come back to this room after that photo was taken? He must have.
Even before the accident that made me an orphan, I’d always felt like an outsider. Life with my dad was exciting and I had loved it, travelling, experiencing different cultures, meeting different people, but there was a downside to living a life so unmoored. I was the perennial new kid, always awkward, never quite fitting in. I had a dozen friends in a dozen countries but no one who really knew me. And no matter how wonderful a parent my dad might have been, it wasn’t the same as having a real family. After he died, it was even more apparent. Not quite seventeen and all alone, no one I belonged to and nowhere to go.
I shuffled my backpack under the bed and rolled over on my side to stare at the photos of my parents. Maybe things would be different now. If Catherine meant what she said, I might have a home instead of a bed and a backpack. We could help each other heal, we could be a family.
I might finally have found a place where I belonged.
Chapter Three
‘Savannah is a city of squares. There were twenty-four originally, twenty-two remain today.’ Catherine opened the gate onto the sidewalk early the next morning, the sun already high and blinding in the sky. ‘Bell House sits on the east side of Lafayette Square. It was built in 1833 by your ancestors, Emma Bell and her husband, Spencer Paul Gordon, both descended from two of the very first families to settle here in 1733.’
I held a hand over my eyes to get a better look at the building, squinting against the brightness. Did I even own sunglasses? I needed them. Bell House was even more impressive in the morning light, shining and stately, all her windows sparkling and spotlessly clean. I felt like a stray dog Catherine had just picked up from the pound by comparison.
‘Today, it is one of the oldest homes in the city to remain a private residence,’ my grandmother went on proudly. ‘Most others were destroyed one way or another. The rest were turned into restaurants, hotels or museums.’
‘Our family has lived in the same house for two hundred years?’ I was stunned. ‘I’ve never lived anywhere longer than twelve months.’
Catherine gave me an affectionate nudge as she drew me away from her home.
‘That’s about to change. Bell House is part of your legacy, she’ll belong to you one day.’
That morning, I had woken up fully refreshed after the best night’s sleep since Dad’s accident. No nightmares, no panic attacks, no staring at the ceiling wondering what would happen to me now he was gone. Just twelve hours of sweet oblivion. Catherine was right, hot tea before bed really did the trick, it knocked me right out and I didn’t stir from the moment I closed my eyes until Ashley knocked on my door to check I was still alive. If she hadn’t, I might have still been in that deep, dreamless sleep. I’d hoped we would spend the morning together just the two of us, but as soon as Ashley reported I was awake, Catherine had me up, dressed and out the door for a tour of the neighbourhood. My millions of questions would have to wait. But it didn’t matter. As long as I was with her, I was happy. We had the rest of our lives to get to know each other.
‘Your locket is so pretty,’ she remarked, holding up a hand in greeting to a man walking his dog on the other side of the street. Everyone seemed to know her and she seemed to know everyone. ‘It is so familiar but I can’t quite place it.’
I reached for the necklace, the little gold orb resting against my black T-shirt. ‘It belonged to my mom. I love it but the lock is broken, it doesn’t open.’
Catherine brightened with recognition.
‘That’s how I know it. What a lovely heirloom for you to remember her by. Angelica really was the most charming woman, she had impeccable style for someone so young. Your mother had gumption.’
‘I’d love to know more about her,’ I said, latching on to her every word and storing them safely away. ‘Dad hardly ever talked about her.’
We walked slowly, the quiet between us filled with the everyday sounds of people passing through the square. The town really was beautiful: everywhere you looked there was an explosion of red, pink and purple flowers, elegant townhouses and what seemed like a forest full of trees, picked up and planted in the middle of town. It was easy to imagine you were walking through a fairytale. My father never had anything good to say about his hometown, always complaining it was too hot, too small, too close-minded. If I didn’t know for a fact I was actually in Savannah, I never would have guessed it from the things he’d told me. I could hardly believe he was talking about the same place.
‘When my husband passed, it was very hard on me,’ Catherine said eventually, speaking slowly as we crossed a one-way street, leaving Lafayette Square behind. ‘He was all I could think of but at the same time, I could not bear to speak his name. Losing your mother was even more difficult for Paul, so young and all alone with a new baby.’
‘Then why leave?’ I said. ‘How could an argument be so bad he packed up and never came back?’
An excited troop of Girl Guides crossed our path, two by two, holding hands and swinging their arms back and forth between them as they went. Catherine glanced down at her delicate gold watch and frowned.
‘I wish there was time to explain right now but I’m already late,’ she replied, her face etched with regret. ‘I don’t know about you but I cannot abide lateness. My dear friend, Virginia Powell, hasn’t been well and I promised I would call in on her this morning.’
‘Yes, totally, I’m so sorry.’ Guilt sank in my stomach like a stone. Of course she had other things going on, Catherine’s entire world hadn’t stopped because I’d appeared on the doorstep. ‘I hope she’s OK?’
‘Oh, she will be. Virginia always was a fragile little thing, her ailments come and go. I sent over an old family remedy yesterday so I’m hopeful she’s feeling fully restored today.’ Her smile returned and she brightened at the thought. ‘You know, her family has been here just as long as ours, Ginny and I have known each other all our lives. The Powells and the Bells are Savannah royalty.’
It was a concept I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Imagine having a friend in your life for decades. Even my longest friendships never lasted more than a couple of years. Dad was firmly against social media and it was hard to convince anyone to keep up an old-fashioned pen-pal relationship, moving around the way we did, people seemed to fade out of my life as quickly as they arrived. Catherine slipped her arm through mine as we strolled on and, just like that, all the good mornings meant for her were also extended to me. I felt a flush of pride and pulled my shoulders back, standing a little taller by her side.
‘Now tell me, how do you like Lafayette Square?’ she asked, drawing me in closer. ‘I know I’m biased but I do believe we live on the most beautiful square in the city. Many people are partial to Monterey but what can really compare with a cathedral? And I much prefer our fountain to the Pulaski monument.’
‘Pulaski?’ I repeated, not familiar with the name.
