by C D Major
Fraser was waiting just inside the entranceway. The sliding doors opened to a warning sign that someone had just wiped that part of the floor.
‘You look . . .’ Fraser clammed up as she stood practically swaying with tiredness in front of him.
‘Like shit?’ she supplied.
The response brought a half-smile to his face.
‘Claudia already told me.’
‘Nice of her.’
For a second, everything was alright. Then a shadow crossed his face. ‘Shall we go up?’
It felt awkward to be side by side in the lift together and not touching, greasy fingerprints on the buttons, the faintest stench of vomit masked by bleach. Ava gulped the air as they emerged onto the second floor. They didn’t really talk in the waiting room, rigid on their plastic seats. Both showed way too much interest in the posters, the signs, the others waiting. A cough, a rustle, a shout for a small child to ‘sit still’ all reminded them that if they spoke, everyone would hear them. And what could she say? She had screwed up.
So, she sat trying not to think about the hoovered floor and the rose petals. He had asked her to be back there for a certain time. What plans had she messed up? Sneaking a glance at Fraser’s sad profile, she wanted to ask.
‘Ava Brent!’
It was when Ava was instructed to get on the bed and roll down her skirt as before that it struck her: this was the twenty-week scan, the one in which they searched for any abnormalities. She had barely thought about her baby these last few weeks and that thought robbed her of speech.
Fraser stared at her for a while as she lay, her head resting back, following the instructions.
First came the reassuring beat of the heart. Ava clenched and unclenched her fists as the sonographer, a woman with a high topknot and an Eastern European accent, stared at the screen, endlessly clicking, probing, clicking, reading out measurements Ava didn’t understand.
‘Is the baby doing well?’ Fraser asked, his voice scratchy and self-conscious. Had he been waiting for her to ask the same thing?
‘The baby looks very well.’
Fraser exhaled. ‘Great, great.’
He had been thinking about the health of their baby. Why hadn’t she?
‘And Mum, you’re looking after yourself? There’s a note here from the nurse about your blood pressure . . .’
Ava could sense Fraser stiffening in his chair. She should have told him it was a little high.
‘Do you want to discover the sex today?’ asked the sonographer.
‘I’m not—’
‘I don’t—’
It was something they hadn’t resolved, something Fraser had asked, more than once, but she had never really answered. ‘I . . . I don’t think so?’ It was tentative, a quick glance to confirm. Fraser, eyes turned down, nodded. This was a sad day; his figure drooped in the too-small chair as he leaned across, trying to make sense of the screen, trying to share in this moment. She had robbed them of a joyful scan. He shouldn’t be staying with Calum or not finding out the sex of their child or not knowing what she wanted.
The gloomy atmosphere persisted as they left, despite clutching folders, a sheet of paper confirming all future appointments and the sonographer’s cheery goodbye. The moment the double doors slid back and they were outside, Fraser turned to her. ‘Shall we go somewhere to talk?’ he suggested.
Ava was about to agree. Of course she wanted to talk. Nothing was more important right now. ‘I do want to . . .’ she began.
His face darkened.
‘I just . . . there’s something important I have to do. I need to see someone at work before they head home.’
Fraser frowned, not following, annoyance replacing the sadness. ‘Who?’
‘It’s about a work thing. Important.’ She tried to dance around the question.
‘What’s so important?’
‘Don’t get angry.’ She tried appealing to him, palms up. ‘We found a bone. At the house – well, the dog found it. That’s where I was when I was late the other night. And I think it’s important to check what we’ve found. I thought Liam could help – at the uni. He’s a scientist after all and I thought they could test it, maybe. See where it had come from.’
‘A bone,’ Fraser repeated slowly.
‘Yes. On Saturday . . . you know that . . . that bridge.’ She gabbled, trying to make his glower lessen. ‘The sniffer dog . . . well, she found something. That’s why I was late back. It could be important, it could be . . .’
She knew from his face she shouldn’t have told him where she was going. It had only made it worse. ‘An animal bone? Some ancient dog or a bloody badger or something? You really think that’s more important than this, Ava?’ He indicated the space between them. ‘Were you even going to bother to tell me about your blood pressure? What did the nurse mean?’
‘It’s nothing. It was a tiny bit high.’
‘It’s more important than a bloody bone!’ Fraser said, his voice cracking.
How could she tell him what she suspected – what the bone might be? She had no proof, nothing tangible and yet something inside her felt sure that she had to do this. She had to get to the truth. ‘I know, I know, it’s just that I promised Liam and he leaves at six and . . .’
‘Oh my God, so? It’s Liam. Drop it round or see him later in the week. It’s not exactly an emergency, is it?’
She thought of the bone in her bag. Could she make him understand why she thought they shouldn’t take it back to their flat? That she didn’t want it there? And it was important. She couldn’t articulate what she felt when she thought of that bridge, that house, what had happened there. She knew Fraser wouldn’t understand because she didn’t understand herself.
‘There’s something about that place, Fraser. I see it. I dream about it. I feel something that I can’t explain. When I’m standing there, it’s like I’m . . . I’m part of something . . . the bone is important . . .’
Fraser rubbed his jaw, the frustration building as she tailed off. ‘Go,’ he said. ‘We can’t salvage anything much anyway. This has been a bittersweet week, Ava. Today was meant to save it.’
It was her turn to be lost.
‘This was meant to be one happy day in among the shit ones. I’d planned to ask . . . You know September is hard, and the weekend . . . today . . . they were meant to be something good in all of that.’
What had he been planning that weekend? Rose petals, his insistence on her returning. Had he . . . She was distracted as she tried to order her thoughts. ‘Why is it hard?’
The moment she said it she wanted to cram the words back in her mouth.
‘Why?’ Fraser’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my God, Ava, can you not think of anything else apart from this fucking house? This supposed mystery?’ The words oozed sarcasm, his palms waving. ‘It’s the month my mum died. Remember? Three years ago this month? Sitting by her bed? Holding her hand?’
‘Of course,’ Ava said. ‘God, I’m sorry. Of course, Fraser. I’d forgotten. Lost track . . . I . . .’
A pounding started behind her eyes just as the sun shot out from behind the cloud, making her wince. It was as if a spotlight was being beamed on her utter inadequacy. ‘I’m sorry . . . I . . . didn’t get much sleep. I know about September, of course I do.’
She had loved his mum too. Her eyes filled with tears and her thoughts started to muddle.
‘Really, Ava? Because you don’t act like you do. You’re my family now . . . you and our baby. Since Mum died . . .’ His eyes filled as he looked at her. ‘Just go. Go and see Liam and do what you need to do because I don’t want to be with you right now anyway.’ He gulped as if he was swallowing down the other things he wanted to say then straightened and headed to his car. He didn’t offer her a lift and she didn’t ask for one. She deserved this.
Chapter 38
AVA
He wasn’t there. It was obvious from the feel of the place. The space that always felt like home was now like someone el
se’s apartment. No familiar smell of cooking garlic, no sound of sizzling meat. She missed his bad dance anthems from the speakers in the kitchen and his call as he heard the door. Nothing. Quiet. Bare. Gone.
She wandered the four rooms of their small flat, noticing the changes: a single toothbrush propped in the mug; a missing framed photo from the wedding reception of one of his friends; the place in the hallway where he left his golf clubs, where she always moaned they took up too much space – she wished she was tripping over them now; the hooks exposed by the missing outdoor coats, anoraks and duffels – where other people bought shoes, Fraser bought jackets; the suitcase from the bottom of the wardrobe gone; his rail emptied.
A bowl and spoon had been washed up and dried. The surfaces were wiped down. There was a sheet of A4 paper on the side filled with his careful handwriting. She approached it slowly, knowing the contents of it were going to hurt her. Going to hurt them.
Calum had offered him a spare room. He would stay with him for a while. Ava felt bile rise in her throat, not noticing the buzzer to the flat until someone pressed it repeatedly.
For a strange moment, she imagined it was Fraser, who had changed his mind. He would stride in, seize the treacherous piece of paper and tear it into a hundred pieces. He would bring up his suitcases, return his golf clubs (that she’d never moan about again), the photo from the wedding, his toothbrush and he’d say it was all a silly mistake. She pushed her finger down on the entry button and poked her head out of the flat. ‘Fraser I—’
It wasn’t Fraser.
It was her mother, marching up the stairs towards the flat.
Ava was both crestfallen and dumbfounded. Her mother hadn’t sent her a message or phoned her in days. She felt a mixture of relief and resentment.
She should invite her in, but there was the hurt of the last half an hour, the letter still there on the counter in the kitchen. And, although she wanted her mum – wanted a cuddle, wanted to be treated like a child for a short while, to be loved and listened to – she also was aware that she and her mum had drifted apart in recent weeks. Ava pulled the flat door towards her, blocking the view of the place.
Her mum looked uncomfortable, a tight fist around her handbag, her jaw tight. It was dinner time; right about now she should be in the kitchen wearing her apron and shouting at Dad to stop doing his jigsaw in the conservatory and help her lay the table, telling Gus to stop begging at her feet. ‘Are you going to invite me in? Is Fraser here too?’
‘He’s out.’
Her mum stepped past her and entered without removing her coat or relinquishing her handbag. ‘I was at Pippa’s. I have Tommy on Tuesdays. Liam told me you and Fraser had a row.’
Ava bristled. ‘Nice of him to have a good gossip about it. I suppose Pippa was there too, enjoying my fall from grace.’
‘Don’t be silly, Ava. She was concerned, if you must know.’ Ava felt a flash of shame. ‘And Liam wasn’t gossiping. He thought I would want to know you were upset. Although when he told me . . .’ The grip on her handbag tightened. ‘Honestly, Ava. You had your scan and then you felt the need to traipse halfway across the city so you could ask poor Liam to risk his job finding out about some bone you fou—’
‘It’s hardly going to risk his job,’ Ava said, flaring up.
‘Well, I told him not to do it – not to indulge you in this . . . obsession. It’s already caused poor Fraser so much pain.’
‘You had no right to do that! And it hasn’t.’ Poor Fraser. Her mum had always adored him. And Ava had always loved that she fussed over and spoiled him. Now it just annoyed her.
‘He came to see your father only a week ago,’ her mum began. Why would Fraser go and see her dad? Ava could feel the dismay building. ‘I made him stay for a good meal, poor boy. He said he’d barely seen you all summer.’
Ava crossed her arms. Now she really did feel like a child again – sullen at being told off.
‘You’re an obsessive, Ava. Always have been. That’s why you went into journalism – always digging, digging – won’t let anything go.’
‘I thought you were proud of that. You always said you brought me up to be a strong woman!’ She and her mum shared so many qualities: both outspoken, passionate while being private about their own emotions. ‘Well, I’m sorry my job – the job I love, I should add – is suddenly so terrible!’
‘It’s not.’ Her mum’s face softened, her grip on the handbag loosening. ‘But you’ve never before been such a pit bull, willing to sacrifice your own life, your own happiness, for it.’
Ava felt a throb at the front of her head around her eyes. Her overwhelming tiredness, the nightmares, the fight with Fraser . . . all of it had exhausted her.
‘Where is Fraser?’ Her mum looked as if she was seeing the flat for the first time, dropping her handbag on the hall table and moving into the living room.
Ava followed, massaging her temples. ‘He’s . . .’ She could have lied but decided not to. ‘He’s staying at Calum’s . . . just temporarily.’
Her mum turned with an open mouth. ‘Ava, you need to fix this,’ she said in a low voice.
The pointing out of the obvious only made Ava want to scream or break something. Had she been alone, she may well have done.
Her mum opened her mouth and then closed it again, her eyes troubled. What had she been about to say? ‘I’m here for you, you know that.’
‘Is that why I’ve seen so much of you these last few weeks?’ Ava was on the verge of tears, her throat thickening. ‘Is that why my phone hasn’t stopped buzzing?’
‘I . . . I’m sorry. I have been thinking about you. And about the baby. Whether you are doing too much, taking enough breaks. Pippa mentioned your blood pressure . . .’ All the things her mother had obviously been carrying around with her, the little anxieties, tumbled out, and the barrage of it made Ava feel even more twitchy and on edge. How could she now admit she had barely thought about their baby these last few weeks, that her mind had been taken over by another baby, another child? Her mum was right: she was obsessive.
‘I’m fine!’ Ava snapped, moving to her flat door. ‘I just want to be on my own.’
Her mum wavered, suddenly looking as forlorn as Ava felt. Ava straightened. She had been the one to come here, tell her off, make her feel bad. She didn’t get to play the victim now.
Perhaps her mum understood, because she nodded once, picked up her handbag from the table and stepped through the open door. She turned on the mat, her lips beginning to part. Ava shut the door quickly so that whatever she was about to say was cut off once and for all.
Chapter 39
AVA
Ava drove in the dark. She didn’t know where she was headed until she crossed Erskine Bridge, the River Clyde flowing black beneath her. She turned off down the familiar track, her headlights shaking, animals diving for safety in the verge. The sun had long set and the road was a ghostly blue as the car bumped and shook over the stones.
The small car park was deserted. As she swung her car into it, the headlights swept the line of pine trees. She pulled up and turned off the ignition. The clicking of the engine cooling was the only sound as she sat there, her eyes straining to see ahead in the dark, the crags hemming her in. She felt light-headed as she stepped outside. The ground seemed uneven. She was hungry, that was it.
You’re obsessive, Ava.
The house stood even more imposing in the darkness, the towers lost to the night, the windows black holes. She stared at it for an age. Were all the rooms as tired as the grand drawing room with its ornate painted ceiling and flaking skirting boards? Had the house ever been full of light and life? She imagined parties crammed together, chatter, a thick cloud of smoke hovering above ladies in velvet, men in tuxedos, cocktail glasses tinkling, waiters standing nearby, round silver trays loaded with replenishments. The grand scenes dissolved as she stared at the forbidding blocks of stone.
She shouldn’t be here. She had driven Fraser and her mum away, but
the same fascination, something so strong she couldn’t resist, called to her. The words on the windowsill, the discovery of the bone had only fuelled the feeling that this place harboured a dark secret and that somehow she was hurtling to the heart of it. She felt her baby turn, a strange flip-flop. What bone had they found? Anger flared that her mum had told Liam not to indulge her. He would do as he was told; he’d always been intimidated by her mum. She would call him, tell him to test it. She shivered in the cold, already moving towards the house like a sleepwalker.
Her footsteps crunched loud on the driveway, small stones skidding away from her as she passed beneath the high walls of the house, trembling as she pulled her jacket around herself. An oppressive silence as if the building was gobbling up the sound of her footsteps. Holding her breath as she moved beneath it, eyes ahead. The noise of churning water quiet at first, rising with every daunting step.
Stepping onto the bridge, her flesh was spotted with goosebumps and the smell of damp filled her nostrils. Approaching the thick stone, her heart leaping, it seemed that she was the only person in the world. She pressed her stomach against the side, the cold seeping through her clothes. Her baby jerked, startling her, and she pictured the small foetus scrabbling at her insides.
She stepped onto the nearest parapet, the small step of stone. The wind whistled, bending the branches of the trees, whirling like soft voices around her. One of the thin places. The back of her neck prickled. What was it about this bridge, this place, that had affected her, seeped into every corner of her life? Why couldn’t she get it out of her head? She wanted to stop thinking about it, wanted to fix the damage it had already wrought, and yet she felt a desperate need to be back here, to delve deeper. Why? The chasm was black beneath her, sucking its answers deeper under the water, further out of reach.
‘Stop, please.’ The voice was familiar, halting.
The shock of it made her wobble on the parapet, one hand quickly grasping the ledge. She sensed movement, a rush of footsteps. Arms clamped on either side of her as she was pulled back from the stone parapet onto the gravel of the bridge, her pulse beating in her ears. ‘What the . . .’