The English Heart

by Helena Halme

  ‘It’s Peter for you,’ Sirkka said, handing Kaisa the receiver. The phone was sitting on a small hall table. There was no chair, so Kaisa sat down on the floor, holding the receiver close to her ear.

  ‘I’ve tried your number all evening.’

  ‘Sorry, I was out with my sister.’

  ‘Right.’

  Sirkka giggled and sang into the receiver over Kaisa’s mouth: ‘Do you think I’m sexy’.

  Kaisa shook her head at Sirkka and she disappeared into the kitchen.

  ‘What was that?’ Peter sounded angry.

  It wasn’t a good phone call. Peter seemed cold and distant whereas Kaisa was jolly and a little drunk after such a good night out. They ended the conversation without saying, ‘I love you’.

  Kaisa got a job interview with Handelsbanken, the largest bank in Sweden. The offices on the third floor on Karlaplan were bright, with desks separated by low walls. Smiling faces looked up at Kaisa as she followed a friendly woman to her desk. The office staff wore jeans, or casual trousers and tops. It was so different from the bank in Helsinki. There the staff had to wear a shirt and skirt, or a neat dress. Even on a hot summer’s day, the dress code was strictly adhered to.

  At the end of the interview, which she thought had gone very well, the Swedish woman closed the file on her lap and smiled at Kaisa.

  ‘Can I give you some advice?’

  Kaisa was surprised. This didn’t sound like a job offer after all.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I know you’d make a great employee here at Handelsbanken. And I could quite easily give you the job, and I know you’d be good at it. But...’ the woman hesitated for a moment and looked at Kaisa, ‘I’d do you a disservice if I didn’t turn you down and tell you to go back to Finland to finish your studies.’

  Kaisa looked down at her hands.

  ‘This is what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?’

  Truth was Kaisa didn’t know what she wanted. The past two weeks in Stockholm had been wonderful. Peter had phoned nearly every night after that first awful conversation. He’d told Kaisa he loved her, and missed her. Each time she wanted to ask why he’d said what he had in Hyde Park, but couldn’t. She didn’t have the words.

  When Kaisa told her mother what the woman in Handelsbanken had said, she took her daughter’s hands into hers.

  ‘You think she might be right?’

  Exactly three weeks after the ferry crossing to Stockholm, Kaisa was on her way back in the opposite direction. This time she’d decided to make the journey during the day, and together with a good book, the hours sped past. As she watched the ferry dock at South Harbour jetty Kaisa hoped she’d made the right decision in returning to Helsinki and her studies.

  Kaisa had no doubts about this until she saw her father waiting for her just inside the ferry terminal. He didn’t smile; just bear-hugged her and took hold of her heavy suitcase.

  ‘We’d better get you into the car then,’ he sighed and walked ahead of Kaisa into the already dark Helsinki afternoon.

  Kaisa’s father, who had two daughters, used to call Kaisa ‘My Best Girl’. As she grew up, his obvious favouritism became a burden to her rather than a source of pride. When Kaisa’s parents finally split up after years of fighting, it was a relief to both of their two daughters.

  Kaisa’s parents allowed the girls to choose which side to take when Sirkka was fifteen and Kaisa thirteen. They sat the girls on the plush velveteen sofa and asked them in turn who they wanted live with.

  Kaisa’s father didn’t take the rejection well. ‘You’ve made your bed. There’s no more money from me.’ He stormed out. That night he came home drunk again.

  On returning from Sweden, Kaisa had no choice but to go and live with her father. In spite of the threats, over the last few years he’d occasionally invited his two daughters to lunch. As they parted, he always handed over a few dark-purple 100 Mark notes. When Kaisa told him she was going to study at Hanken, he gave her a small allowance. And when Kaisa eventually phoned him from Stockholm he promised her a temporary home in his house in Espoo, a town of suburbs just outside Helsinki. Of course, Kaisa hesitated, but her mother said, ‘It’s about time he took some responsibility for at least one of his daughters.’

  Peter on the phone from Scotland couldn’t understand what the problem was, ‘But he’s your father?’

  Kaisa couldn’t tell him about the drinking or the violence.

  At Hanken, Kaisa was greeted with a hug from Tuuli. ‘Coming back to study is absolutely the best decision you could have made.’

  The blonde-haired woman at the students’ advisory office agreed. ‘Why don’t you change your subject? Commercial law is a difficult one to specialise in, especially as Swedish is not your mother tongue.’ Her kind eyes were fixed on Kaisa. ‘The next committee meeting is early December. If you get two exam passes by then, we can re-approve your grant.’

  Kaisa became a student of political science at the School of Economics. She lost a year by changing subjects, but her new department was small and homely. She studied the theories of Karl Marx, as well as those of Keynes, and her horizons were widened. While the other students at the university learned how to make money, or account for it, Kaisa’s new department taught her the principles behind the desire for wealth and power.

  At the house in Espoo, Kaisa’s father got drunk rarely now. He’d given up his bedroom for her and was mostly staying over at his new girlfriend’s flat in Töölö. Kaisa cooked for him when he was at home, and when he was in a good mood he made gravad lax.

  While Kaisa tried to forget about Peter, his letters wouldn’t allow it. He wrote at least once a week and called when he was on dry land. Most often he was away with the submarine, to unknown destinations, for weeks on end, and the letters would dry up. Then one night, she was woken up with a phone call.

  ‘We’ve just sailed in, and I’ve been told I can take leave for Christmas. Can you come to England?’

  Kaisa’s grant came through in December and if she continued to live with her father she’d be able to afford the fare. She told Peter she’d think about it, but Kaisa knew what her decision would be.

  At Hanken, Tuuli shook her head. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? You remember what happened last time you came home from England?’ They were standing in the semi-darkness of the Students’ Union disco in the centre of Helsinki. After her return from Stockholm, Kaisa and Tuuli had started going out again, most often to ‘Ladies’ Nights’ on Mondays. The disco was full of students from all the Helsinki universities, but mostly students from Hanken. The rich boys were always there, and Kaisa would see them laughing and gazing at her and Tuuli. Kaisa often wondered what would have happened if she’d agreed to go with Tom. Would he now be arm in arm with her instead of the tall red-haired girl he was with that week.

  ‘Look who’s here again,’ Kaisa now said, turning her head away when the guy looked in her direction. ‘Do you think I should have gone out with him that first week?’

  ‘No,’ Tuuli said, ‘you know exactly what would have happened. He would have fucked you and that’s that. It’s what they do: as many as possible in as little time as possible.’

  Kaisa laughed. But was this what all men were like? Was Peter like that too? Was he only so loving and seemingly committed to her because he was lonely up in Faslane, or Faslavatory, as he called it? Where he said there were no pubs or clubs. In other words, no places to meet girls in?

  When Kaisa got home that night, there was another call. ‘Well, are we going to meet up at Christmas?’

  ‘Of course we are.’

  Kaisa could hear Peter take a deep breath, ‘That means I’ll see you in only two weeks’ time!’

  Thirteen

  While in Stockholm Kaisa had discovered a company called Fritidsresor, which organised chartered trips from Sweden to London. If she travelled by ferry to Stockholm, a week in a cheap hotel in London, with flights, cost half of a Finnair airfare from Helsinki to Heathrow
.

  Peter said he’d never been to Stansted. When Kaisa arrived, he was the only person meeting the plane full of Swedish tourists, apart from an efficient travel guide wearing a red and yellow shirt and holding a clipboard above her head.

  ‘Stockholm passengers please report to me,’ she shouted in her singing Swedish.

  Kaisa made her way up to her and said, ‘I’m going to be staying with a friend, so I don’t need transport to the hotel.’

  The tour guide glanced sideways at Peter and crossed Kaisa’s name off a list. ‘Make sure you’re not late for the flight’s departure,’ she said and flicked her blonde hair.

  Kaisa ran into Peter’s arms. He smelt of the cold outside air. He gave her a long kiss. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

  The airport was at the end of a narrow road that followed the perimeter fence of the runway. With the roof up, the yellow Triumph Spitfire was cosy and warm.

  ‘We’re going to my parents for Christmas and then Pompey for New Year, OK?’ Peter reached over and squeezed Kaisa’s thigh. ‘We’ll be there in about three hours.’

  Kaisa relaxed into the low seat and closed her eyes. This time she’d been even more nervous about coming to see Peter than last summer. But as soon as she saw him, and felt his lips on hers, all that was said at the end of the last visit seemed like a bad dream. Had Peter really told her he wanted to be free to date other people? His letters since, and his behaviour now, were even more passionate and loving than before. It was as if they were a real couple, not just two singles meeting up for occasional sex.

  Peter’s mother embraced Kaisa warmly. She made a cup of sweet, milky tea and placed a slice of strongly spiced fruit cake in front of Kaisa. The kitchen smelt of her baking. Peter sat across the table and smiled while her mother fussed over Kaisa. She didn’t dare to say she didn’t like tea, milk, or fruit cake, and tried to sip the hot, sickly drink.

  Kaisa heard the front door open. Peter’s sister walked into the kitchen. Nancy kissed Kaisa lightly on both cheeks and sat down. She was dressed smartly in a navy blue skirt and a white blouse. Nancy was seven years older than Peter and had the same dark features, with her eyebrows plucked into a neat shape and her eyes made up with a discreet pale blue. Kaisa hadn’t met her before but had seen pictures of her in the house. Her smile was friendly when she looked from Kaisa to her brother.

  ‘I bet you two love birds are glad to see each other at last,’ Nancy said and sat down at the kitchen table. Peter’s mother had her back to them, making more tea.

  Kaisa blushed and Peter shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There’d been no time to make love yet. Their yearning to touch each other was overwhelming. It was as if Nancy had sensed it. Then with immaculate timing, Peter’s mother said, ‘I’ve put you in the blue room.’

  Kaisa looked from her to Peter. Her face felt hot.

  ‘Let’s get your things from the car.’ Peter got up abruptly and took hold of Kaisa’s hand. He led her out of the kitchen. Outside, he kissed Kaisa behind the open boot of the car. ‘They’ve agreed to let us sleep in the same room.’

  Kaisa relaxed her body against his. He held her and whispered into her ear, ‘The things I’m going to do to you tonight...’

  On Christmas Eve morning, Peter said, ‘I need to do some shopping.’

  Kaisa was surprised. He hadn’t bought all his presents yet? Peter drove into the nearest town, bought some scented soap for his mother and a book for his father. Then he took Kaisa into a pub on the corner of the High Street. It turned out to be a bar in a hotel and full of people and noise. A large-chested woman approached Peter, embraced him and kissed him on the lips.

  ‘How are you, darling?’ She was holding a drink and a cigarette above the heads of the other revellers. Her complicated hair-do had ash blonde streaks. A few curly strands fell around her face.

  Peter introduced her, ‘This is a friend of my sister’s.’

  ‘So at last I get to meet the famous foreign girl!’ The woman let her gaze wander from Kaisa’s high-heeled boots to her tight jeans and cream satin blouse.

  ‘She’s very pretty,’ she said, and winked at Peter. ‘No wonder you’re smitten.’

  Kaisa could feel her cheeks redden and she lowered her eyes to the floor.

  In Finland, Christmas Eve was celebrated with a church service followed by a meal of special Christmas foods, which used to take Kaisa’s mother weeks to prepare. When Kaisa and her sister were small they were allowed to watch a little television, but the highlight of the evening was the arrival of Father Christmas. It would either be their father dressed in his sheepskin jacket turned inside out and wearing a false beard, or one of the professional Father Christmases who roamed the streets on Christmas Eve, going from one household to the next. He brought a sack full of presents for Kaisa and Sirkka and the grown-ups had a drink or two while the two girls played with the toys. But no one went out to a restaurant, or a bar. Even visitors were discouraged until Boxing Day.

  Kaisa couldn’t believe how different the celebrations were in England.

  ‘Everyone goes out on Christmas Eve,’ Peter said, ‘and then you end up with a hangover on Christmas morning,’ he laughed.

  Peter and Kaisa exchanged presents on Christmas morning in the privacy of the Blue Room. When she later told Sirkka about their gifts for each other, Sirkka smiled. ‘So sweet and so Freudian!’ Kaisa hadn’t even seen the connection, and was embarrassed; she’d bought Peter a leather wallet and he gave her a fountain pen.

  On Christmas morning the English house was busy. The rooms were decorated with glittery paper streamers, balloons and tinsel. At around ten, Peter’s sister Nancy and her boyfriend arrived, followed by his brother and sister-in-law, who’d driven down from London that morning. His mother was rushing from one room to another, wearing an old-fashioned pinny, waving a tea towel, laughing. One by one the guests arrived for drinks. Soon the large sitting room was filled with cigarette smoke and noise. Kaisa was shy at first, but slowly relaxed when Peter introduced her to the various family friends. Then suddenly, as if by previous agreement, the room emptied and the guests departed, wishing one another a ‘Happy Christmas’.

  Now there was a rush to get the food to the table. Kaisa had never seen so many kinds of vegetables, roasted, boiled or mashed. The gravy was dark and juicy, and the turkey slices large and white. She felt drunk, but Peter poured more wine into her glass.

  ‘It’s Christmas,’ he said and kissed her cheek.

  Everyone around the table smiled at Kaisa.

  ‘How do you like Christmas in England?’ Peter’s father asked. His dark eyes had a spark to them Kaisa hadn’t seen before. He too was a little tipsy.

  ‘I like it very much,’ she said.

  He patted Kaisa’s hand. ‘We like having you here.’ He nodded to his son in the seat next to Kaisa. Peter put his arm around Kaisa’s shoulders and squeezed her closer. Kaisa looked through the French windows at the well-tended garden with its green lawn and wondered if being this happy would make up for the lack of snow, or a little quietness, at Christmas.

  * * *

  Kaisa was back in Finland, at her father’s place on a Monday morning in January. She was tired from the travelling. First the late night flight from London, then the overnight ferry from Stockholm. She’d hardly slept on the free bunk bed, even though it had been a quiet crossing.

  Kaisa’s father was at work when she arrived home. She wondered if he’d forgotten she was coming back that day, because there was no food in the fridge. Perhaps he hadn’t been home since Christmas, which Kaisa knew he’d spent with his girlfriend in Töölö. To think of her as a girlfriend seemed strange. She was so much older than her, and yet unmarried. A spinster. Kaisa sat in the kitchen and looked at the thick covering of snow outside. There was a sharp northerly wind and people passing by were huddled against it. She went to bed and put on the cassette Peter had given her. The words of ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ by The Police rang in her ears, just as t
hey’d been sung to her by Peter on New Year’s Eve. She could still smell his coconut shaving cream on her clothes. Kaisa curled up on her bed and slept.

  Kaisa woke up to the telephone. ‘I’m coming home later. Is there any food?’

  ‘Happy New Year, Dad.’

  ‘Yes, well, Happy New Year to you, too. So, I guess I have to go to the shop?’

  Kaisa put the phone down and went back to sleep. She was so tired she didn’t even care about her father’s veiled criticism. Or that he obviously thought Kaisa a nuisance. She’d be gone soon enough, and when she left she’d never see him again.

  Peter phoned in the evening. ‘I love you so much. I can’t bear to be without you.’

  Kaisa held the receiver close to her ear and listened to his breathing. Her father had been home, eaten some shop-bought raw herring and beetroot salad straight from the plastic container, and then left again. Kaisa was glad to be alone.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Listen, I haven’t got much time to talk. But, I’ve got news.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve just bought a flight to Helsinki!’

  Kaisa sat bolt upright and listened in stunned silence. Peter was coming to see her in February. ‘That means we’ll see each other…’

  ‘In just five weeks!’ Peter was jubilant. Kaisa could hear the laughter in his voice.

  Kaisa’s father’s face fell when she told him the news the next day. ‘What, he’s coming here?’

  ‘I suppose we could go and stay with mum in Stockholm,’ Kaisa said. She was wringing her hands, but stopped and folded them over her chest instead.

  ‘How did that woman manage to get a place big enough for you two to stay?’ Kaisa sighed and ignored her father. She wished she hadn’t mentioned her mother. They were sitting eating at the kitchen table. Kaisa had made meat balls with a creamy sauce, boiled potatoes and courgettes. He looked at the green vegetables, ‘What’s this?’