Solstice - The Goddess Awakens

‘Okay. Okay. I’m awake. I’m awake,’ groaned Lola defiantly to no one in particular. Her dad had been calling her for the past ten minutes. Warm sunlight assaulted her weary eyes as she forced herself out of bed. It only seemed like minutes had passed since she had gone back to sleep. She had woken in a panic in the middle of the night again. At exactly the same time as every other night – 1.05am – with the residue of the familiar nightmare clinging to her like sweat. Beyond her bedroom window she could hear the thrum of traffic as Ballyvalley began its working day. At least it’s Friday, Lola told herself, the start of the weekend. Avoiding the mirror, Lola washed and dressed quickly, before making her way downstairs where she was greeted by her dad busying about in the kitchen.

‘You finally decided to get out of bed, love,’ grinned her dad. ‘Here, drink that, your toast’s on the way.’ Lola took the cup of hot tea from him gratefully and sat at the worn kitchen table.

‘Thanks, Da.’

‘Are you feeling okay, love? You look awful. Did you not sleep last night?’ quizzed her father suspiciously.

Lola didn’t feel the need to lie to him. She rarely lied to her parents, or had to, but she didn’t want to get into the details of her recurring dreams. She was too tired for that this morning. Besides, she hadn’t told anyone about it – not even Arthur. Not even her girls.

‘You’re not worrying about that place. Are you, pet? If you don’t like it just leave! Arthur will understand.’

Her father obviously thought that her lack of sleep was due to her internship at the local paper, but that was another nightmare entirely.

‘No, Da, it’s nothing like that,’ protested Lola, trying to sound as convincing as possible. ‘It was really warm last night and I just couldn’t get over to sleep.’

Her dad narrowed his eyes, staring at her waiting for the truth he knew she was hiding, but, much to Lola’s relief, he didn’t push the matter, continuing to make her breakfast as he’d done since she was a child. When she was very young, Lola remembered coming into the same kitchen on winter mornings, along with her brothers. She would always find her school uniform lying over the chair in front of the open gas oven, warming her clothes before she put them on.

Being an only girl in a house with four boys meant that she had a special bond with her dad – most of the time anyway. They were very much alike in temperament –fiery. Both had the innate ability of pointing out each other’s flaws. Joseph Paige was a joiner by trade. Working all his life in the construction business had taken its toll on him. He was almost fifty, and both his age and his affection for a pint of Guinness had resulted in him developing a little pot belly. In his youth he’d been a very slim and attractive man standing at five foot ten. He still had the same kind, sparkling blue eyes, fair hair with hardly a trace of grey and the same moustache for over thirty years.

‘There you are, love, eat that up before it gets cold,’ advised her dad as he set the steaming toast with strawberry jam on top of the gingham table cloth.

‘Thanks, Da, that’s lovely. Hopefully we’ll not be too busy today, and I might get away early to enjoy the sunshine – while it lasts. It’ll give me the chance to get ready for the weekend. It’ll be the last time we will be together for the whole summer.’

For weeks Lola had been dreading the mass exodus and now the time was nearly upon them. In just under a week, Ruby, Clara and Orla would be abandoning her for America, while she was trapped working in the seventh circle of hell. Perhaps that’s what the nightmares were all about. Maybe she was worried about the girls heading away. Lola’s mind drifted back to the cold and lifeless chamber as she gazed absently into the wisps of steam rising from her black tea.

Once again the darkness enveloped her as it had done every night for the past six months. The chamber was lifeless, like the limp body she held in her aching arms. She couldn’t see who it was, but somehow she knew the person she clung to so helplessly was dead and, with them, all hope. Lola couldn’t get her bearings, all she could feel was the frigid dusty earth beneath her paralysed body. In desperation her fingertips reached out into the blackness, only to find more stone. As her hands moved across the enormous stone edifice they detected grooves embedded deep into the columns. She could recall, so vividly, the excruciating pain emanating from her ankle that prevented her from concentrating on any of these observations. Lola’s skin prickled as she relived the fear that exploded through every particle of her body, knowing that someone was just inches away in the darkness, waiting to finish her off.

‘Lola! Lola! Earth to Lola. It’s time you got a move on, love, it’s almost nine!’ urged her dad, waving his hands in front of her blind eyes. ‘Are you still sleeping, Lola? God knows you haven’t changed much, pet, you’d sleep on a clothes line.’

Coming to, she glanced at her watch. She was late. Gulping down the last of her tea and toast, Lola planted a kiss on her dad’s stubbly cheek before bolting through the front door of thirty-three Cottage Park. This was Lola’s favourite stretch of road in town, not just as it was the road her house was on, but because she loved the sights and smells of the Scarvagh Road. However, her mind was otherwise engaged this morning, so she had no time to indulge in the picturesque cherry blossoms that lined the left-hand side of the road as she crossed over to where the sun chose to shine. The morning sun hung low in the sky, the beautiful hazy blue hue indicating that it was going to be another hot one. But the warmth never seemed to touch Lola. Her dream flickered through her mind’s eye like a roll of film. Something was different about last night’s episode, she mused. Something that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Some detail she was missing.

She buttoned up her powder-blue mac, regretting her choice of wardrobe – a light lemon skater dress with a pair of white pumps. The weather had been fantastic over the last couple of weeks, at least by Irish standards, but as much as she loved the sun, Lola’s fair complexion never changed. Her girlfriends often jibed that it was easier to stare directly at the sun than to look at the glare off her white legs. Glancing down at her slim, toned legs, she couldn’t disagree. Lola had learned the hard way that subjecting her body to the gruelling job of tanning was futile. No matter how much she forced her inherently Irish melanin to turn her skin golden brown, it refused to give in. The best she could hope for was a healthy glow and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

It was only a five-minute walk into town, but as Lola got closer to the Ballyvalley News, which would be her place of work for the next three months, she began to slow down. She had just completed her first year as a journalism student at Queen’s University, Belfast. It was mandatory that she take up an internship each summer in her field. One week in, she was cursing herself for turning down the top provincial paper in Northern Ireland for her local weekly. It had been on Arthur’s advice. After his counsel, they’d both agreed that she might learn more there. Get more hands-on experience. But for the first time in her life she felt he may have been wrong. It had been a tough week for her. Instinctively, Lola paused at the entrance to the Ballyvalley News. As she pushed the creaking door open, she retreated from the sunny street into the district’s oldest news hub.