The Thin Place

by C D Major

  As she moved past the front of the house, she saw one woman open the boot of her car. Three dogs leaped out, sniffing at the air excitedly, tails wagging after being cooped up. They raced in circles before setting off in front of her. Ava’s heart was in her mouth as they headed for the bridge. She should call out. She should point out the sign. She should tell the woman that dogs were not safe there. She sped up, kicking up pebbles as she moved beneath the sharp shadows of the house, the air chillier in the sudden shade.

  The dogs were almost there, the woman with them seemingly oblivious to the danger.

  ‘Excuse me! Excuse me . . .’

  The woman couldn’t hear her. Ava felt her chest squeeze; they were almost on top of it. One of the dogs barked, spun about, then suddenly they were there on the bridge, as Ava stopped and stood stock-still, her eyes not leaving them, tense as she watched them. One leaped and sprang, one put his nose to the ground. Ava felt her body stiffen. She remembered Gus, his sudden run. Tommy, hands to the side of his head. What if they darted for the edge? What if she watched one of them fall? The woman was on her mobile, a lead trailing in her other hand, oblivious.

  Ava watched them all cross safely, her breath rushing out of her with relief. She turned back, glancing up at the window where she had seen Keven. Perhaps he was in. She could tell him about the sniffer dog, the theory Neil had read about the scent of mink, ask him about the crags. There was no answer as she rang the doorbell. Not wanting to admit she just wanted to see a friendly face, she set off to search for him.

  There was no one around now, the evening sky darkening, the sun almost lost behind the trees. Descending the stone steps that led down the side of the house, she noticed again the window almost completely obscured by ivy. She found herself staring at it for a while, moving slowly towards it.

  She felt jumpy, aware that this felt like snooping despite being metres away from the public road. She could say she was looking for Keven, though. He wouldn’t mind. He had been kind to her.

  The ivy was a thick curtain over the dusty glass, only a few diamonds peeking through. She stepped towards it carefully; the panes were covered in decades-old grime. The smell of damp overwhelmed her as she stood right next to a part of the wall that the sun was unable to reach. Pulling aside a few tendrils of ivy, insects scattering, she cupped her hands to her face and pressed her nose up to the glass to peer inside. The glass was surprisingly warm, a strange cloying heat that felt unnatural.

  It was a small square room with plain white walls and a simple watercolour of a mountain on the furthest wall. A low single bed stood in the corner, a shelf running above it. Ava was too far away to make out the different books. A china doll was propped up to act as a makeshift bookend. A threadbare rug, missing some tassels and curling along one edge, was laid along the floor next to the bed. In the corner was a small oak trunk next to a dusty red wheelchair.

  She stared around the tiny space, feeling her whole body suspended. This was the room beyond that wooden door. The locked room. She stared at the items, dust covering everything, cobwebs in the corners of the room and hanging beneath the shelves. This was a child’s room. A sick child. Her baby somersaulted, wild movements as she stared once more at the wheelchair.

  Her eyes travelled down, noticing the thinnest gap along the bottom of the window. The wood had warped over time so the window couldn’t quite close. She was about to turn away when she spotted something strange on the white windowsill. Scratched into the surface of the paint were the subtlest of lines, the white flaking roughly along the edges. But Ava could see clearly what was written in capital letters, neatly spaced out, the words facing the outside so she could read them.

  HELP ME.

  Chapter 30

  MARION

  I don’t tell Hamish any more, so the whiskery doctor doesn’t come. I know the sensation but I also know they won’t last.

  Sometimes they cling on; sometimes my stomach swells with the promise of them so that, for a few weeks, I let myself imagine and it becomes almost unbearably true. I tentatively start to hope, start to believe. Sometimes there is a little blood; sometimes it pours out of me and I drip for days. Sometimes I am forced to cut the cord, take their tiny forms and bury them – sons . . . daughters. I bury them beneath the bridge, in a place hidden from sight of the house, that I can go to. My babies. I think of the first baby. I wonder where he is.

  Hamish rarely comes home. I sit and lose the hours, my clothes hanging, hair grey at the roots, nails peeling, fine hairs covering my arms. Miss Kae fusses so I hide the food, remove it from the dining room, tip it into the soil outside.

  I don’t roam the estate, walk up to the crags, stare out at Dumbarton Rock or across to Ben Nevis. It is all I can do to visit them, breathless by the time I have reached the spot beneath the bridge, kneeling in the grass that grows there. Above me the bridge casts its shadow, gargoyles leering out of the stone. Sometimes people walk across and through the estate; I see their faces peeking over, fingers pointing to the River Clyde in the distance on sunny days. I stay crouched on the bank in the shadows below until they leave, feeling my sadness absorbed by the soil.

  Hamish has been forced to sell more things from the house: a portrait, a silver dining set, a wedding gift. The brown bear stays, scowling as the hallway is diminished in front of him. Pale spaces, dust piling up; he doesn’t employ more help from Dumbarton – I am to make do.

  Susan has stopped writing, angry with my silence and the rescinding of a proposed visit. Mother tells me Father will not manage the journey. I stay in the house. I am not alone, though. I am with my babies, the solid stones of the estate holding us close.

  Every now and again, on the rare occasions Hamish is home, we are invited to dinner parties but he says he is alarmed by my appearance. The excuses follow: she has a head cold, she has a fever, she is unwell. He goes without me and returns with bright lipstick on the stiff white collar of his frilled dress shirt.

  Christmases and New Years come and go and she is always there. The border community is small and I have struggled to make friends, aware of the whispers behind a hand, bug-eyed women watching my husband. Her bob has grown out. Her husband is older, carries a stick, has been on breathing apparatus for something on his lungs. She twirls and touches his hands, throws back the blonde hair that hasn’t thinned like mine. He follows her always with his heavy-lidded eyes, brown irises swirling.

  There are words for women like her: a free spirit, a mistress, a concubine. She has borne her older husband’s children; rosy-cheeked and combed, they are presented to her before their bedtimes; they press faces through the railings on the landing above our heads. They are bonny and gorgeous. Three heirs. So many. I see Hamish notices them too, lips tight.

  He can’t understand what is wrong with me. Exhorts me to eat, to take the air. He has no idea that I do get pregnant. But the babies refuse to stay. I am not a mother. I am a waste.

  I stand on the stone parapet of the bridge, dizzy with it all, the wind jostling me, whipping my hair across my face, turning my hands blue. I stare at the jumble of slick rocks below, pointed, sharp – a long way. And yet I cannot leave them. I see the spot where they are buried and I find myself stepping backwards onto the tiny pebbles of the bridge, slipping down the stone steps at the side towards them, wheezing as I make my way over and join them on the grassy bank where they lie.

  Chapter 31

  AVA

  ‘You’re serious?’ Fraser came inside from the balcony.

  ‘Sorry, I thought I’d told you!’ Ava pulled on a different pair of trousers. They still didn’t fit.

  Flinging them to one side, she reached for a green chequered shirt dress, the buttons straining a little over her body. She looked down, surprised by her size. She had to shop for maternity wear. ‘I won’t be that long,’ she said, pushing the fabric belt through the loops and tying it quickly.

  She emerged back into the living room. ‘Have you seen my white cardigan?’

&
nbsp; ‘Ava, it’s a bank holiday,’ Fraser protested.

  She stared up at Fraser, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, the sun brightening the white muslin curtains that billowed behind him. ‘I know. I didn’t realise when I agreed but I can’t cancel – he’s Neil’s friend. I don’t have his number for a start.’ She didn’t add that she absolutely didn’t want to cancel. The thought of a sniffer dog exploring more of the area around the bridge made her skin tingle with anticipation. Would the dog find a scent? Could the bridge just be explained away like that – mink or something else purely logical? ‘You could come if you like?’ she said, moving towards the mirror that hung above their sofa, pulling her hair into a ponytail. She leaned forward, noticing the thin strands of grey in her brown fringe. She should book an appointment with the hairdresser’s too. The lack of enthusiasm in Fraser’s reflection was disheartening. She met his eye. ‘I really am sorry.’

  ‘This is the last weekend of the holidays and I feel like I’ve barely seen you,’ Fraser said, a weariness washing over his face. ‘I wanted to relax this weekend; I wanted to . . .’ His fists curled by his side, knuckles whitening.

  Ava felt a lurch. She had neglected him, and had broken so many promises these last few weeks. Wavering, she considered calling Neil, telling him to go on ahead without her. They surely wouldn’t discover anything new. She glanced at her mobile on the coffee table, imagining cancelling, not heading to Overtoun. She picked it up and put it in her handbag, mumbling an apology. ‘It’s important,’ she said, convincing herself too.

  Again, she felt that strange fascination seize her as she pictured her destination. She wanted to be back there; she wanted to see the house and bridge again, to walk around the estate. She didn’t look at Fraser as she promised, ‘Look, it really won’t take up too much time. I’ll call you when I’m on my way back. I’ll tell Neil we need to be quick.’

  Fraser slumped down on the sofa. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Make some plans for us.’ She tried to keep her voice bright and kissed the top of his head as she swept past. ‘Ah, found it!’ She picked up her white cardigan from where it was draped over a stool.

  Fraser didn’t reply.

  She reached to unlock the door. ‘OK, so I’ll see you later!’

  He grunted, which was probably the best response she could expect.

  She left the flat and drove out of the city, over the Erskine Bridge and off the road at Milton. She bumped up the dusty road to Overtoun House, her pulse quickening as she spied the grey towers through the pine trees, felt that strange sense of being enclosed as the crags hemmed her in on the right. Neil and his friend were already there. Aaron smoked a cigarette with one hand, held a scruffy golden retriever on a lead in his other. She lifted a hand to wave as she pulled in alongside them. The dog looked up, long yellowish fur lifting in the breeze.

  Ava shook his hand and bent down to pat the dog.

  ‘This is Bella,’ Aaron said, his Scottish accent broad.

  ‘Hello, Bella.’ Ava reached to pat Bella, making her yearn suddenly to see Gus. Her mum used to send regular videos and photos of him, but she had barely messaged her in the last few weeks. Ava noticed Bella’s white whiskers. ‘She’s gorgeous.’

  ‘She’s my best friend,’ Aaron said simply, grinding his cigarette into the ground. ‘So where’s this bridge then?’ His eyebrows lifted, lines appearing on his forehead as he hefted a rucksack onto his back.

  ‘It’s around the other side of the house,’ Ava said. ‘I’ll show you.’

  They walked together, Bella trotting beside Aaron, oblivious to any encroaching danger. As they stepped into the slices of shadows, the house blocking out the morning sun completely, Bella’s ears pricked up. The sound of water grew louder and Ava’s mouth went dry as she remembered the last time they’d brought a dog here.

  ‘You will keep her on the lead?’ she checked.

  Aaron raised a pale eyebrow at her. Behind him, Neil stayed quiet.

  ‘Neil must have told you about it. I’d hate for Bella to be at risk. There’s a sign . . .’

  ‘I’ll be keeping a good hold of her.’

  Neil moved to one side of the bridge, his eyes not leaving the dog, who seemed to be listening intently to Aaron as he bent down and talked to her. Ava joined Neil. A blush crept up his cheeks as she thanked him for arranging this. ‘I wonder what we’ll find out,’ she said brightly, her projected demeanour at odds with the feeling she always got as she looked across the parapets, over the estate and into the distance. It was stifling and sad, everything a contrast to the sun that shone brightly, making her wish she had remembered her sunglasses.

  Neil pulled out a small camera and started to film. Ava wondered briefly if she should stop him, see what they discovered first.

  Bella sniffed urgently and Aaron followed, keeping the lead long. Ava wanted to caution him once more. They wouldn’t be able to stop her if she . . . She swallowed down the warning. Bella returned time and time again to the parapet where Gus had made his run, the ivy-covered window of the house in view, the shadowy verge below. For a second, Bella leaped onto the stone, her body quivering. Her ears pricked as she seemed to sniff the air, a sudden, loud bark making Ava jump, almost treading on Neil’s foot, their arms clashing. She took a step sideways, the tension mounting within her.

  Then, just as quickly, Bella seemed to make up her mind, leaping off the parapet back onto the bridge, racing around the corner, almost garrotting herself on the lead as she strained to get to the path that ran alongside the bridge. Aaron took off after her as she tore down the speckled pathway into a tunnel of leaves, the trees bent right over the water in places. Ava and Neil followed. Ava paused as she stepped onto the path, watching Bella circle one particular patch up ahead. Aaron let her explore and sniff.

  The river grew louder as they moved farther down the path, the long grass tickling their legs, water tumbling over rocks and around boulders, hurtling downstream. Bella had stopped, almost frozen, a little way off, a foot or two from the path on a steep slope that led back to the house, pockmarked with overgrown plants. As Ava reached Aaron, she could just make out the grey stone walls of the house at the top of the hillock. Her heart quickened as Bella seemed to emerge from her frozen state and a continuous low gurgle sounded in her throat as she started to scratch one paw along the ground, tapping at the earth. It didn’t look like a home for an animal nor a place for mink. It was simply a grass bank with patches of dark green and spotted with weeds. Ava pulled her arms about herself; the bank was shadowed and cold.

  ‘We could dig here,’ Aaron said. He tugged a spade from his rucksack. Yellow nails clutched the handle as he turned to look at Neil.

  ‘Dig?’ Ava hadn’t imagined this: the insistent pawing at the earth, the electric atmosphere that seemed to crackle in their small group. She laughed nervously. ‘I didn’t think . . .’ What had she thought? She hadn’t imagined the dog would find anything. And what would they find if they dug? ‘Do mink live underground? What . . . I’m not sure we should . . .’

  Aaron lifted his eyebrows at Neil as if exasperated.

  Neil lowered his camera. ‘What has she found, do you think?’ He sounded uncomfortable.

  ‘She’s telling me there’s something here. She’s pretty adamant. And Bella here can sniff out things hundreds of years old.’ Aaron’s gravelly voice was full of pride and his gaze insistent.

  Neil shrugged.

  ‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ Ava said. They weren’t quite on the path; this was technically the grounds of the house. She looked over her shoulder at the deserted space. Even someone walking past on the bridge wouldn’t see them unless they peered over. Her curiosity overwhelmed her. ‘Alright,’ she relented.

  Neil raised the camera again. Aaron stuck the spade into the earth at an angle and pressed his weight on it. Bella remained rigid and stared at the spot. Neil had stepped up behind Ava. She could feel his breath on her neck and shoulder as he filmed. The dappled light, the sunlight on t
he water, seemed at odds with the dull bank, the muddied pile of soil and grass. Bella barked once and Ava felt her flesh fizzle with the sound.

  ‘Stop, girl, stop,’ Aaron said gently as he kneeled down. ‘There’s something here,’ he said urgently. He bent over to work at the ground with his fingers. ‘Bloody hell . . .’ he whispered.

  Ava drifted forward and saw Aaron lift something out and lay it on the grass.

  ‘You said they first jumped in the fifties?’ Aaron said to Neil as Ava continued to stare.

  It was a bone, at least twenty centimetres long. A bone.

  ‘It looks like a leg bone,’ Aaron said. ‘Certainly a limb of sorts, a . . .’ He frowned up at Ava. ‘A dog’s femur?’

  Bella growled, padded past the churned-up spot and pawed at the ground again, insistent, the gurgle growing. Ava kneeled on the dry ground and reached for the bone. This didn’t seem right. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all. She’d thought the dog might pick up a scent, something driving other dogs wild enough to leap to their deaths. Not this. Why would a bone be found here? It wasn’t beneath the bridge. Could it have been buried?

  She found herself reaching for it, flinching once it was in her hand. She turned it over. The surface was gritty with clumps of dirt still clinging to it. She felt her face twist with revulsion. Neil stepped forward and filmed her examining it. ‘I think . . .’

  But whatever she thought was cut off by a shout from the top of the path. She straightened quickly, hiding the bone behind her in one hand, brushing at her white cardigan with the other. Keven was already on the path, looming like a giant. ‘I heard the barking; you gave me the shock of my life. I thought—’ He finished abruptly, making his way down to them.