Solstice

22^nd June, 1995

Part 1

It was the morning of the winter solstice; the shortest day and the longest night, so that when the clock-radio flashed 4 a.m., it was still a long way from dawn.

Holly slapped her hand down over the bleating box, but it was too late. Lacey groaned to the tune of You Oughta Know, the bedside lamp came on, and Holly was greeted with Lacey’s messy brown hair and squinting eyes.

Lacey moaned, “It can’t be four already.”

Holly squirmed under the covers till she was comfortably atop the sleepy lady. “Why did you even set the alarm? You’re not the one catching the redeye, and you know I always wake up early.”

Lacey draped her arms over Holly’s shoulders. “I didn’t want you sneaking away again.”

“I never sneak. You always know when I’m leaving.”

“Why does it always have to be so early? Just once I’d like to enjoy a lazy breakfast with you. Just once I’d like to be fully awake when you break my heart by walking out that door.”

“Don’t say that. You know I hate leaving you. There’s just so much going on right now. You know I can’t take my foot off the pedal. At least, not yet.”

“I know. I just…” Lacey looked into Holly with those wonderfully, unashamedly affectionate eyes. It was a look that always warmed Holly’s insides, but also reminded her of the lie. Lacey said, “I haven’t asked. How’s Mena doing?”

The last thing Holly wanted was to talk about her sister. “She’s coping. Hey, do you know what today is?”

“Thursday. June 22.”

“The winter solstice. One of the most spiritually significant days of the year. Do you know why?”

“Tell me.”

Holly obliged with a voice that bypassed deception; that wrung straight from the most honest, most sincere, the most hopeful part of her. “It’s the day when the dark is strongest, when it’s at its peak, when the light is at its most vulnerable. But it’s also a turning point. The darkness never gets any stronger than this, and the light begins its triumphant return.”

Lacey caressed the nape of Holly’s neck. She guided Holly to her with a gentle downward pressure, and they shared a slow, lingering kiss.

Lacey whispered, “Stay with me. Please.”

Holly’s heart ached. She didn’t want to leave, and she hated having to keep up the charade. She felt trapped, and none of it was Lacey’s fault. “You deserve better, Lace. Don’t think I don’t know that. I just… I need more time. If you can give me that, I promise things will get better.”

Lacey’s answer was another kiss – much livelier than the first – and although Holly was on a clock, she indulged the woman’s much appreciated passion.

***

Three months earlier…

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me today, Miss Dunham. I’m so sorry I’m late.”

“Call me Holly.”

Lacey fumbled with the chair, catching the leg with her left toe. She sat, exasperated for what was proving to be a very rushed morning.

At the same moment the waitress arrived, Holly asked, “Are you alright?”

Lacey said, “Much needed double shot soy latte, please.” The waitress imparted an unusually large grin before bustling away. Lacey turned her attention again to Holly, who combed a finger through her lustrous black hair. Lacey replied, “I’m very well. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just… the top button of your shirt isn’t matching the top hole.”

Lacey looked down at her lopsided mauve blouse, and her cheeks burned; so hot, in fact, that in eight minutes they might’ve been worthy of a garnish of parsley, and a side-serve of salad greens. “Oh, Jesus.” Holly chuckled, while Lacey righted herself one button at a time.

Holly said, “Pardon the bold assumption, but I’m guessing you’re not a morning person.”

“I’m not, honestly. I tend to keep vampire hours.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sorry I insisted on an early meeting. But I do have a killer schedule today.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Really. I’m grateful you squeezed me in.”

The waitress dropped off the order just as Lacey extracted a notepad and pen from her handbag.

“So,” said Holly, “where do we start?”

“Before we do, I just want to say I am so sorry for what’s happening. How’s your sister coping?”

“I appreciate that. And she’s… as you’d expect, I guess. Messy, but hopeful.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear she’s not given up. And what about you? I imagine this is all very difficult for you as well.”

Holly stared with her crystal green eyes, as though Lacey had said something profound. Or profoundly stupid. “I’m not particularly close to Mitch. But it’s hard watching Mena suffer.”

“They’ve been married three years?”

Holly nodded. “I guess you could say it was a fairy-tale romance. All princes and glass slippers and pumpkins turning into carriages.”

A sceptical tone prompted Lacey’s raised right brow. “Pardon my bold assumption, but something tells me you don’t believe in fairy-tales.”

Holly laughed and brought her cup to supple, unpainted lips. “On the record, Miss Koogan, I don’t know what you mean.”

As she sipped, Lacey noticed short glossy nails, and a white shirt cut in a way that flattered an ample bosom. There was also a mischief about the woman that Lacey found endearing.

Lacey asked, “And off the record, Miss Dunham?”

The black cup chinked against the saucer. Holly replied with playful enthusiasm, “Mitch Gordon is a cad. A jumpsuit made of iron couldn’t keep that thing secured.”

Lacey might’ve laughed if the man wasn’t the subject of an ongoing search that began four days prior. “Are you suggesting he was unfaithful to your sister?”

“On the record, Miss Koogan?”

“Lacey. Please, call me Lacey.”

“Lacey. On the record – and truthfully – Mena believes Mitch to be a faithful husband. Ultimately, I suppose, my opinion of him really doesn’t matter.”

There was a sadness about her then, that had Lacey wanting to dispense with the record entirely. “Your opinion matters to me. Your sister isn’t talking to the press, and everyone else I’ve spoken to has suggested Mitch Gordon is beyond reproach. If you have a different opinion – on or off the record – I’m listening.”

Holly leaned across and brought her hand gently down over Lacey’s, pinning it to the pad. Lacey’s resting heartbeat kicked into high gear, not only for the woman’s touch, but for her unwavering stare. It was the first time since her (adulterous) last partnership that she’d felt any kind of attraction. She’d not seen that trainwreck coming, had blithely disregarded her best friend’s warnings of infidelity.

Holly murmured, “Mitch Gordon is a—”

The waitress returned, and Holly shot back in her seat.

“Is there anything else I can get for you ladies?”

Holly checked her watch. “Not for me, thanks.”

Lacey echoed, “No, thank you.” The waitress’s departure allowed for more embarrassment. “I really was late, wasn’t I?”

“I really do have to go.”

“Of course. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Holly stood and slung a handbag over her shoulder.

Lacey rose from her chair. “Maybe we could reschedule? I swear I won’t keep you waiting a second time.”

“Look, Lacey, I really don’t know anything. He’s my brother-in-law, yes, but I’ve had very little to do with him. I expect he’ll be found on one of his bush trails somewhere, hunkering down because of a broken compass.”

Lacey was discouraged by Holly’s abrupt withdrawal. “I’m sure you’re right. And we don’t… we don’t have to talk about him.”

“Oh. Is there something else you wanted to discuss?”

Lacey stammered, “Well, no. Not… I mean, not… not specifically.” God, Lacey.

Holly’s initially blank expression convinced Lacey she’d again be chumming it up with her close pal Humiliation.

But then Holly’s mouth formed a smile, which was promptly dancing in her provocative eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Lacey Koogan, but how long have you been working with the local rag?”

“A month if I’m not fired by Monday.”

Holly rounded the table and came intimately close. Her proximity stirred butterflies, as did her hand on Lacey’s forearm. “Tell you what. I’ll talk to Mena, see if she’ll agree to an interview with you. Before Monday. I’d hate to see you get fired.”

Surprised, and yet more grateful, Lacey gushed, “You would do that?”

“I would, on one condition.”

Emboldened, Lacey replied suggestively, “Anything, Miss Dunham.”

Holly grinned with rosy cheeks. “Well, I was going to suggest you be on time. But now that you’ve agreed to anything…”

***

22^nd June, 1995

Part 2

Holly was in the shower, and Lacey was contemplating joining her when the clock-radio’s snooze function kicked in. A news report came on, and Lacey was promptly sickened by it.

‘The body of missing local man, Mitch Gordon, was discovered just after 1 a.m. this morning in a shack in the outskirts of Shepparton in northern Victoria. The cause of death is yet to be determined. Police believe that although Gordon has been missing since March, he’s been dead less than twenty-four hours. Police are remaining tight-lipped as to whether Gordon was abducted or had disappeared of his own volition, but initial reports suggest he was being held at the property against his will. Forensics are on the scene, and police expect to have more answers in the coming days and weeks. Mitch Gordon is survived by his wife, Mena Gordon.’

Moments later, a muted jingle came from the handbag on the corner armchair. It occurred to Lacey in that moment that Holly never left her phone in the open. She jumped out of bed and rifled through Holly’s things – makeup, keys, Qantas wallet – and found the Nokia with its small screen flashing.

Mena.

Before Lacey could answer, the ringing stopped.

While Lacey waited, she noticed a tremor in her hands.

The phone rang again.

Lacey pressed the green button and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Holly, my god—”

“Mena, it’s… it’s Lacey.”

Mena’s sudden crying outburst drew forth tears of Lacey’s own.

“Mitch… Mitch is… Mitch is dead. They… they found him.” Lacey tried to speak, but nothing came out. Mena growled, “Why isn’t Holly ever here when I need her?” Lacey heard knocking in the background. Mena whined, “The police are here. I have to go.”

The line went dead.

Lacey sat the device on the chair’s plumply padded arm. The Qantas wallet had spilled onto the floor, and Lacey reached for it. She checked over her shoulder to the bathroom door, then opened the pouch. She unfolded the document stapled inside. The ticket was genuine enough, but Lacey was stunned by the date. Nestled in the folds of the expired itinerary, was a keycard from the Quest Shepparton hotel.

Holly came out of the bathroom, dressed professionally for her ‘out-of-state’ meeting. She took one look at Lacey, and her cheery façade vanished quicker than a raindrop on a thirsty desert plain.

Lacey croaked, “They found Mitch.” Holly’s mouth dropped open. Lacey added mutely, “He’s dead, Holly.”

“What? No. No, that… that can’t be.”

“It was just on the radio. Mena called.”

Holly’s eyes darted to her handbag, and then back to Lacey, who slipped from the Gucci knockoff the air ticket. She waved it and said, “You haven’t been catching the redeye at all, have you? You’ve been carrying this old ticket around as nothing more than a prop. What’s in Shepparton, Holly?”

“Lace.” Holly came a step closer.

Lacey barked, “Don’t.”

Holly froze.

Lacey threw the ticket on the chair, then crossed her arms. “They say Mitch has only just died, not more than twenty-four hours ago. They suggest he was being held captive.”

“Lace, I know what you’re thinking—”                                                                                

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Was it guilt that wet Holly’s thick lashes? Was it grief? Or was it all fake? The crocodile tears of yet another master pretender. “I knew you were hiding something from me. But I ignored it because I…”

“Lace…”

“I don’t know what this is – just what exactly it is you’ve been doing – but your brother-in-law is dead, and the police are all over it.”

“Lace, I—”

“I can’t be a party to this. If I don’t go to the police, they’ll suspect I knew. I can hear them now, wondering how I could’ve been so… so blind. Twice!” Lacey’s last word boomed.

“I…” Holly’s voice broke. “I didn’t want to lie to you, Lace. And I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you.” Again, she tried an approach.

Lacey howled, “Don’t! Just… don’t.”

Holly’s shoulders slumped. “There is an explanation.”

Lacey peered down, over her staunchly folded arms to her bare feet. “Explain to the police.” She looked up again, because Holly deserved at least that, but her voice tremored, “They’re on their way.”

Holly wiped her streaked cheeks, an action made wholly redundant by a fresh onslaught of tears. Lacey couldn’t breathe for her own misery.

Holly said softly, “I guess the light’s not going to make its triumphant return after all.”

Lacey looked away as Holly collected her things. She sensed Holly waiting for a reprieve, but Lacey couldn’t give it. Instead, she closed her stinging, blurry, salt-sea eyes.

She didn’t open them again until she heard the front door close.

Then she doubled over and wailed.

It was reported two hours later that Holly Dunham had surrendered to police.

***

22^nd December, 1995

Lacey sat self-consciously in the hard chair, and the prison officer wandered off. Across the table from her was Holly Dunham, who, despite the circumstances, gave her a heartwarming smile.

Lacey said, “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“It’s so wonderful that you came, Lace.”

Lacey had prepared for the visit by telling herself she would not get emotional, but Holly’s willing forgiveness made her immediately misty-eyed. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here.”

“You’ve been overseas. I understand. You look good.”

Lacey replied, “So do you.” Holly laughed. It was an honest, uninhibited bellow, and it prompted Lacey’s own genuine chuckle.

Holly said, “The bottle-green jumpsuit brings out my eyes.”

“It’s no lie.”

Holly’s pleasure slowly receded. It was replaced by a pain that Lacey felt deep down to her core. Lacey said, “I’m so sorry, Holly.”

“Don’t be sorry. I wanted it to be over. The truth needed to come out.”

“I… I should’ve let you explain.”

With that, Holly did. “I was so stupid, Lace. Mitch and I had an affair. It was brief, not more than a couple of weeks before I put a stop to it. But afterwards, things got strange. I felt like I was being watched. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to weird noises. I’d find things in the house out of place. I started receiving threatening letters, late night phone calls where the caller would just breathe at me. One morning I found the tyres on my car slashed, inside the garage. I should’ve gone to the police, but I knew it was him, and I didn’t want Mena to find out about my shitty behaviour.

It was a week after Mitch went missing that Mena told me their bank accounts had been drained. Mitch had taken everything and left her with a mountain of debt. A few weeks later, Mitch contacted me. He demanded I see him, so I did; at the shack outside Shepparton. I thought I could appeal to his sense of… decency, but he was angry. We struggled and I… I hit him in the head with a vodka bottle. There was… a lot of blood. I couldn’t just leave him like it, so I tied him up and treated him until he recovered. I didn’t know what to do with him after that. Every time I went there to tend to his needs, he screamed at me that when he got loose, he would kill me. And Mena. I didn’t see a way out. The last night you and I spent together, I’d decided to tell Mena and the police everything. Of course, he decided to have a heart attack.

It's a matter of public record now, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry this happened to you, and that you ended up here. It doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s okay. Really. I’m okay.”

“Has Mena been to see you?”

Holly nodded. “I was so ashamed to face her. But the truth of it was, even in the beginning, I was intimidated by Mitch. I think, deep down, I knew saying no to him might be dangerous.” Lacey didn’t doubt Holly was right, and she offered her hand.

Holly took it and said, “You know, when all this started, you were the only reporter who didn’t present Mitch as some kind of saint.”

“Maybe that’s because in the beginning, you were the only one ballsy enough to be honest with me about him. I don’t know if you’re aware, but others are now coming forward with similar stories about Mitch Gordon. It seems he was quite the bully.”

Holly nodded, then steered a gaze towards the barred windows, bright with midday light.

Lacey said, “Do you know what today is?”

“Three sleeps till Christmas?”

“The summer solstice. It’s the time of year when the sun is highest, the day is longest, and the night… the night is short, Holly.” Holly donned the most precious smile. Lacey said, “I’ll come visit you every week. The next twelve months will pass, and then you’ll be free. And there’ll be someone waiting for you, under the mistletoe and with a boatload of presents. That is, if you’ll have her.”

Holly beamed. She kissed Lacey’s fingers, and then she laughed through tears, and for Lacey (This is my fairy-tale, right here, Holly Dunham.), it was the most beautiful, most treasurable moment in the world.