by Helena Halme
A younger couple entered the room. A stockily built lieutenant, whom Peter introduced as Gerald, came in with his Scottish girlfriend, Erica. Behind them, laughing loudly at a joke the Captain had made, was Judith, the wife of the First Lieutenant Rob, whom Kaisa had already met at the base during the Christmas ball.
During dinner, talk inevitably turned to Lady Di.
‘Did you meet her?’ Erica asked.
The quiet Scottish girl, Kaisa had found out, was just 22 and worked as a nanny in Glasgow. She had a very pale face, which contrasted with her coal-black hair, and a sweet smile that made Kaisa glad she was sitting opposite her. Although her accent was at times difficult for Kaisa to understand, she liked her.
‘No, I work and live in London.’
Erica opened her mouth to say something but before she had a chance, a voice further down the table addressed her.
‘She was so nice, very natural. The way she talked to the children you could tell she’s a mother herself,’ Judy, the wife of the First Lieutenant, said. ‘It’s such a shame you missed it, Keesi.’
Kaisa smiled and resisted the urge to correct the woman’s pronunciation of her name. Peter, who was sitting on the other side of Erica diagonally opposite Kaisa, gave her a look that said ‘Don’t’, so Kaisa just said, ‘She looks very friendly’ and added, ‘Tell me, what was she wearing? Peter told me about the visit, but couldn’t even remember the colour of her outfit!’
There was general laughter before Judy described the outfit in great detail — the Navy-inspired dress with gold buttons, white, low-heeled shoes, a matching white hat with a navy ribbon and a white leather clutch bag. She talked at length about the lady-in-waiting, and how nice she, too, had been, making sure no one person got too much time with the Princess.
‘There were some sailor’s wives, who had to be told to move away. But that’s understandable, really. They don’t usually come close to royalty, so they don’t know how to behave.’
The Captain cleared his throat and, looking at his wife, said, ‘It was a successful visit, and I think even Her Royal Highness enjoyed it.’
There was more discussion about the Princess and her charitable work.
‘She’s wonderful with the AIDS patients, isn’t she? Touching them like that. Very brave,’ Judith said.
Everyone nodded, and for a moment no one said anything. But Kaisa couldn’t help herself. ‘AIDS is only transmitted through sexual intercourse, so there’s really no bravery involved in touching a patient,’ she said.
There was a tension around the table, and Kaisa could feel Peter’s eyes on her. She didn’t dare look at him.
‘That’s certainly the current medical opinion, anyway.’ Kaisa spoke into the silence in the room, catching Erica’s eye opposite. She nodded and smiled.
The Captain cleared his throat once again, and said, ‘I think it’s time for some port for the gents and some liqueurs for the ladies? Shall we retire to the lounge?’
‘Well done,’ Costa whispered to Kaisa when they left the table and she briefly stood alone with the Captain’s wife, waiting for others to leave the room. Kaisa turned around, wanting to say something, but Costa moved her along and they were back in the lounge with the others overlooking the now darkened view of Loch Lomond.
When Kaisa had first met Costa, at the Christmas ball on the base, where she’d met most of the officers from Peter’s Starboard crew, she’d found her quite cold with little to say to Kaisa. She supposed that, as the Captain’s wife, Costa must get fed up with having to be nice to everyone all of the time. But tonight, the petite woman who had short, unkempt brown hair, was very pleasant; she didn’t have any airs or graces.
Kaisa wondered what she would have to do if Peter passed Perisher, and she too became a Captain’s Wife. If they made it that far, she thought. She shivered and told herself to stop thinking about the test. Surely if she did have AIDS, she would be ill? Wouldn’t she find it difficult to shake off any little colds or sniffles?
She thought back and realised she’d only been ill, or away from work, due to her miscarriages and the cramps she’d had afterwards. The last time she’d taken an aspirin and gone to work regardless. She tried to shake off thoughts of the test and wondered instead what she would do if she actually managed to hold onto a baby and give birth.
If Peter got a drive in one of the submarines stationed up in Scotland, would she want to give up work and move up here again? When she and Peter had talked about having a baby, they had decided she would stay in London, and use the crèche that the BBC provided in Covent Garden. She knew the waiting list was long, but she’d hoped that if she put down the baby’s name, as soon as she was far enough on in the pregnancy, she’d be able to get a place. But that was before Peter knew about the Perisher and a possible promotion. Although he hadn’t said it, Kaisa felt sure that, as a Captain, he’d get less time away from the boat. Would she be able to cope with a baby on her own for most of the time? And how would it be for the child never to see his or her father? Perhaps life up in Scotland wouldn’t be so bad after all.
She looked around the sitting room where the eight of them were sitting. She’d definitely keep clear of Judy, but she could see herself becoming friends with both Costa and Erica. Plus, you never know, Nigel and Pammy might have moved up to Scotland by then. Pammy had written in her latest letter that Nigel’s commission on a diesel submarine in Plymouth was coming to an end, and they didn’t yet know where he was going next. ‘The uncertainty is the worst thing, isn’t it?’ she’d written. In London, Kaisa felt much removed from the Navy circles, but decisions about Peter’s career were still a major concern in their marriage. Apart from her inability to keep hold of a baby, that is.
And now the horror of the virus.
Which she wasn’t thinking about.
The bare fact was that she was still dependent on Peter’s work in so many ways. She missed him constantly, and a six- to eight-week patrol meant two months of not trying for a baby. A shore job would mean she’d have a chance of conceiving each cycle.
And then there was all the talk about the nuclear submariners only producing daughters. It was true that most of the children born to the submariners Kaisa knew were girls, but was it really true that the radiation affected the men’s sperm so that only girls survived? Kaisa hadn’t dared ask the old GP, who she knew would call it an ‘old wives’ tale’. Besides, Kaisa didn’t really mind a girl; in fact, she secretly wished for one. But since she’d lost this latest baby, she’d begun to worry that it might be the radiation that was causing her to have early miscarriages.
Kaisa was shaken out of her own thoughts by Peter, who came to sit on the arm of the comfy chair allocated to Kaisa by the Captain. He was holding two glasses of port in his hands and handed Kaisa one.
‘You OK?’ he whispered into her ear and Kaisa nodded.
In spite of the not-so-well veiled criticism of her choice of living arrangements by the First Lieutenant’s wife, and the brief blip over AIDS, Kaisa found, to her surprise, that the evening did go smoothly. She even enjoyed herself a little.
It had been a beautiful evening, with the sun up until gone eight o’clock, and now when they were drinking port and eating cheese, Kaisa could still see the shadows of the trees and bushes in the vast garden leading down to the loch.
Earlier, before dinner, when it had still been light, they’d all admired the view of Loch Lomond, which had been as still as a millpond. It had stopped raining, and the sun had briefly come out from behind a thick blanket of cloud. The view had reminded Kaisa of the lakes in Finland.
Aulanko in Southern Finland, where she and Peter had spent one ill-fated Midsummer weekend, had the same majestic fells and deep valleys as Scotland, with lakes connected by narrow fast-flowing rivers. Even the pine trees reflected onto the water on the opposite shore had made Kaisa think of home.
Again she wondered if she could live here. If she didn’t have to live in a married quarter, perhaps she would ma
nage it?
There’d been a lot of talk about closing down the Finnish section at the BBC lately. Since her wonderful boss, Annikki Sands, had retired, there hadn’t been anyone who could defend the work of the Finnish section at Bush House. The other Nordic countries’ foreign services had long since been closed down, so Kaisa guessed it was only a matter of time. She wondered if work was still scarce up here in Scotland, and whether she’d be as miserable here now as she had been five years previously. She supposed now she had journalistic experience, she could do freelance work for other organisations, perhaps even for radio stations in Finland. Kaisa was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the talk turn to babies. She realised when everyone was looking at her that someone had asked her a question.
‘Sorry, miles away,’ she said.
Stewart, Peter’s Captain, laughed and then said, ‘We were just wondering when you and Peter are going to start a family?’
With panic rising in her gut, Kaisa glanced at Peter, who, after giving a short cough into his curled-up hand said, ‘Oh, not yet. We’re having too much fun for that.’
There was laughter from the men in the company, and looks of disapproval from all the women except Erica, who was studying her hands. Kaisa shot a grateful glance at Peter. He smiled at her and continued, ‘In any case, I think for the next few months my priority should be Perisher, Sir,’ he added.
‘Quite so, quite so.’ The Captain nodded. He took a sip of his port and added, ‘But we will miss you on the next patrol, make no mistake.’
Kaisa shot Peter another look. Was he going to say he would miss the next patrol too? Kaisa knew how boring the extended period away from any contact with the outside world was for him. Peter had told her that most men onboard spent the first two weeks getting used to being away from their loved ones, and the final two weeks longing to be home.
‘That only leaves two weeks, or so, doesn’t it?’ Kaisa said, and Peter had nodded. At the time she had wanted to ask him why if, as he seemed to be saying, he hated the patrols so much, he remained in the Navy, but before she’d had time to do it, he’d said, ‘But someone’s got to do it.’ He had then taken Kaisa into his arms and added, ‘And you like the uniform, don’t you?’ They’d both laughed and Peter had given her a long, delicious kiss. Kaisa had to struggle not to blush at the memory of what had happened after their long embrace that time.
Nine
On their way home from the Captain’s dinner, Peter put his hand on Kaisa’s knee and said, ‘It wasn’t that bad was it?’
He was driving along the narrow road from Arden towards Helensburgh passing strange Scottish places like Fruin, Daligan and Dumfin.
‘No,’ Kaisa said and smiled.
When they reached the seafront at Helensburgh, she watched the darkened waters of Gareloch and wished she was back in London, and that they could curl up in their small but lovely bedroom in their terraced house, rather than in the cold rooms in Smuggler’s Way.
‘My God, that woman!’ Kaisa said, suddenly remembering Judith. ‘The way she spoke about the poor sailors’ wives. I bet Princess Di was glad to get away from her and talk to some ordinary people.’
Peter laughed, then added, ‘Although you don’t make it easy for yourself.’
Kaisa smiled but didn’t say anything. She hoped Peter wouldn’t start talking about AIDS, because she couldn’t guarantee that she could keep quiet about the test.
Interpreting her silence as sadness, Peter said, ‘I’m sorry about the Old Man’s comments about a baby. I’ve not told anyone onboard about the, you know the …’
‘That’s OK, it’s better that way. I wouldn’t want them to know.’
They were silent as they passed the peace camp. It looked empty, and Kaisa wanted to ask Peter if they still did the Wednesday demonstrations on the road, but she didn’t want to remind him of Lyn, the peace campaigner she had befriended. Her thoughts went briefly back to her friend. She hadn’t heard from her for a while. It must be at least six months, Kaisa thought.
‘You’ll be able to hold onto the next one,’ Peter said as he stopped the car outside the bleak block of flats on the top of Smuggler’s Way. He gave Kaisa a peck on the cheek and got out of the car. It had started to drizzle and they ran, hand in hand, across the small patch of lawn into the house and up the stairs to the flat.
* * *
As Peter watched his wife getting undressed, he was so sorry there was nothing growing inside her small flat tummy. But he knew he mustn’t show his disappointment to Kaisa. She was already sad enough.
He went over and put his hand on Kaisa’s narrow waist and pulled her close. She was still wearing a skirt and a bra, which Peter unfastened with one hand. His desire for Kaisa was mixed with a desire for a baby, something that would be theirs, something they’d made together.
Ever since he’d held one of the twins, his little niece, baby Beth, in his arms at Christmas nearly five years ago, he’d been imagining himself holding his own little girl, with a mop of black hair like Beth’s, or perhaps with Kaisa’s beautiful blonde locks and her striking blue eyes. He just longed to be a dad. He pulled Kaisa into bed and as he kissed her neck she moaned. He undid the zip on her skirt and pulled it down.
Afterwards, when Kaisa had turned over and was gently snoring next to him, Peter thought about Nigel, who was one of his closest Navy friends. He now had two little girls. He’d told Peter, ‘Every man needs a daughter.’ That was when his second child had just been born, and Peter and Nigel were wetting the baby’s head in the Ardencaple in Rhu. At the time, Kaisa and Peter had been separated, and Peter had thought he’d never again be in a relationship with a woman he’d want to be the mother of his children. He’d told Nigel that he wanted a child very badly, but that the only woman he loved was Kaisa, so that was that.
Nigel had touched his shoulder and said, ‘You need to forgive her and win her back.’
Peter had looked at his friend and nodded. At that moment, in the middle of a rowdy pub, through the haze of his drunkenness he’d understood clearly that his future was with Kaisa. The next morning, with a severe hangover pounding his temples, he’d dismissed the thought and put it down to sentimental talk brought on by the recent birth and the several pints of beer they’d consumed that night.
Yet after several months, and two other relationships, he’d realised that despite the alcohol, he’d been right. The only woman he loved was Kaisa. After he’d managed to win her over a second time, he knew he’d want children sooner rather than later.
But it had taken Kaisa years to be convinced, and when at last they started trying, she’d lost the baby almost immediately. Another miscarriage followed, and now she had lost a third baby. Peter wondered if it was time to stop trying and be satisfied with a brilliant career in the Navy for him, and another for Kaisa at the BBC?
He knew her job meant the world to her. He remembered how after the first miscarriage they’d decided not to try again, and had gone and bought a white sofa for the living room of their Notting Hill home. It was something they could ill afford, but Kaisa had said that with them both working, and earning full-time, they’d soon pay off the hire purchase agreement. New furniture apart, could they really be happy without children?
Sensing that sleep wasn’t far away, Peter curled up next to Kaisa, taking in her scent, and thought that for the next four months at least, he would be busy with Perisher, and afterwards, if he passed, he’d most probably be either a First Lieutenant (or ‘The Jimmy’ as the second in command in a submarine was called) or get his own drive and become a captain of a diesel submarine. He would be away a lot, so not having a baby would probably be best for both of them. Of course, he may well fail, he knew that, and although he believed he’d pass, he also needed to be prepared for a life out of submarines.
Ten
On Thursday evening, after Peter had said goodbye to Kaisa at Glasgow airport, he decided to go for a pint in the Back Bar at Faslane base before turning in. The o
nly other person drinking alone was Dick Freely, a friend of Nigel’s who’d failed Perisher, but had decided to stay in the Navy anyway.
Peter nodded to the man, who was completely bald, but had dark bushy eyebrows and a beard running from his temples to a point below his chin, framing his face.
Peter knew from the rumours going around at the base that Dick had failed the last sea trial, and had, as was customary, been taken off the submarine immediately. He didn’t want to think about that scenario too much and was surprised when Dick came over to him and asked what he wanted to drink.
‘That’s very kind. I’ll have pint of Bass, thank you.’
‘I hear you’re up for Perisher,’ Dick said as a young blonde barmaid Peter hadn’t seen before poured their drinks and placed them on the counter in front of the two men.
‘Yeah,’ Peter said and took a deep swig of his pint. He was surprised the bloke wanted to talk about the course. Strange that he’d dived straight in there. Peter didn’t know what to say to him.
‘If you want any pointers, I’m here,’ Dick added with a short laugh.
‘Right.’
‘Though I may not help much, seeing that I failed.’
‘Hmm,’ Peter said, moving his eyes away from Dick, desperately seeking another friendly face in the bar. He should have made an excuse earlier, he thought. He was already feeling awkward talking to the guy. But the Back Bar was almost empty; most officers had gone home to their wives and there were no visiting submarines alongside.
‘It’s OK, I can talk about it,’ Dick said and Peter turned his head towards the older man.
‘Must have been tough, though?’ Peter said. His curiosity had been piqued.
Dick was quiet for a moment, stoking his beard. This time it was Dick who studied his half-full pint of beer. Eventually, when Peter was about to apologise for being so nosy, he lifted his impressive eyebrows and looked up at Peter, ‘A bit like a death in the family to tell you the truth. The Mrs didn’t take it very well for a start. The divorce came through a few weeks ago.’