by Helena Halme
The other thing that disturbed Kaisa was that Peter had asked very few questions about the tennis player. As if he pretended it hadn’t happened. But surely he must have been curious?
Jealous?
None of it made any sense and now he was gone Kaisa couldn’t ask him. Perhaps she should write to him? No, the wait for a reply would kill her. Perhaps when Peter phoned? Would Kaisa have the courage to spoil a telephone conversation with her doubts? She, too, had been unfaithful, so why not just forget about it and plan for the future?
At least they had planned when to see each other again. During the week together Peter had told Kaisa that in the New Year he was going to be based in Rosyth, near Edinburgh. He said she should come over for a longer visit.
The days and weeks after Peter left passed even more slowly than usual. His phone calls were more frequent now, as were his letters, but they were poor substitutes for his presence. In October, Kaisa continued her political science course at Hanken and negotiated a postponement of her December exams with her professor, a rare Finnish Anglophile. He organised a pass to Edinburgh University library for her, and recommended books she should seek out there.
Kaisa could stay in the UK for six weeks. To save money she travelled to London by train and ferry. The whole journey would take four days, but Kaisa broke it up a little by staying over at her mother’s flat in Sweden.
Sirkka had started a job running a hotel in Lapland, so Kaisa was sorry not to see her too.
‘I can’t believe you’re still going strong with your Englishman after two years,’ Kaisa’s mother said, as she helped carry her bag to Stockholm’s railway station, T-Centralen. ‘Must be love.’ She hugged her daughter hard. Kaisa didn’t want to tell her how much she still doubted the relationship.
On the first leg of the journey, Kaisa had a bunk in a four-berth sleeping compartment. In mid-December Stockholm had a thick covering of snow, but as the train made its way south the landscape turned dull and brown. It soon became dark and there was nothing to see out of the window, so Kaisa climbed into her bunk.
Woken sharply by loud clanking noises, she didn’t at first remember where she was. From the small window she saw the train was in Helsingborg, about to cross over to Denmark. Kaisa glanced at her watch and saw it was 1.30am. Struggling to sleep for the rest of the journey, she tossed and turned under a scratchy thin blanket, wondering what made her travel so far to be with a man. She wondered if Peter did truly love her, and even if he did, was he to be trusted? Would this ‘accident’ of his be one of many? But Kaisa kept reminding herself she was just as bad. At the end of the night she’d convinced herself there was no future for the two of them, and that they’d find this out during the next six weeks – the longest time they’d ever spent together.
Early next morning, when the conductor made his way through the compartments, knocking on doors and giving a wake-up call in Danish, Kaisa was already up and washing her face. Tired after the sleepless night, she entered the busy Hamburg station. There was an hour to kill, so she found a place to have a cheese roll and a coffee. Afterwards she hauled her suitcase up a set of escalators and boarded the train to Ostend. She was to arrive there late afternoon and then take an overnight ferry to Dover.
Finally, three days after Kaisa had said goodbye to her mother in Stockholm, she was on British soil. She took in the warm sea air, and followed the line of equally exhausted passengers from the ferry to board the train to London. The carriages were full and the only free seat was in a smoking compartment, full with noisy football fans.
A guy opposite Kaisa opened a fresh can of beer and winked at her. ‘Fancy a drink, love?’ She shook her head and looked out of the window at the green grass. She longed for Peter’s touch, and closed her eyes, willing the train to move faster. She suddenly realised she knew what loving someone more than life itself meant. If Peter would ever leave her, Kaisa wouldn’t survive. She had to make this work at all costs. It didn’t matter about the ‘girl’ or the ‘accident’. Kaisa had to make him want her, only her. There was no other option. She was going to be like Chrissie Hynde, tough and sexy. Kaisa started to hum a Pretenders track that Peter had given her two years previously. The very first of the many tapes he’d left with her.
Seventeen
Peter drove Kaisa up to Scotland on Boxing Day 1982, after a lovely, jolly Christmas with his parents in Wiltshire. The journey took a whole day. Peter had bought new tapes for the trip, ABC’s Lexicon of Love, Night and Day by Joe Jackson and East Side Story by Squeeze. They sang along to the tracks and Kaisa tried not to think how apt the lyrics of Tempted were to the two of them.
They stopped for lunch – scampi in a basket – at a pub somewhere in the Lake District, in the shadow of an imposingly dark mountain. The sun didn’t make an appearance that day, and Peter and Kaisa arrived in Edinburgh in the dim light of a Scottish winter afternoon. It was raining, but the warm welcome given to Kaisa by Peter’s friends made up for the bad weather outside.
Lucy, the wife of Peter’s friend, was the first naval wife Kaisa had ever met properly. Her husband, a balding man with a permanent smile on his face, immediately went to ‘mix the drinks’. Then he took the bags upstairs. Kaisa was embarrassed by the amount of luggage she carried. She wanted to explain that there were heavy text books in the suitcase, but Roger just smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.’ He winked at Peter. ‘You’ve done well there.’
Kaisa was glad the man had turned towards the stairs and didn’t see her blush.
Lucy was heavily pregnant.
‘I’m at the waddling stage,’ she said the next morning when she poured hot tea into two brown glass mugs from a large teapot. Kaisa smiled at her and looked down at the steaming milky stuff in front of her. She turned her face away from the smell. How could Kaisa possibly tell Lucy she didn’t drink tea?
‘The boys’ as Lucy called Peter and Roger, had left early for work at the Rosyth base. Kaisa had not seen Peter in uniform since she’d met him at the cocktail party at the British Embassy in Helsinki two years before. Peter looked even taller than usual in his black trousers and navy jumper with gold lapels. His eyes appeared darker. When he kissed Kaisa goodbye, she got a whiff of diesel from the scratchy wool.
‘You girls can natter to your hearts’ content,’ Roger smiled. Peter had winked at Kaisa and placed the white cap on his head.
Trying to drink her tea, Kaisa looked over to the communal garden between the semi-detached houses that made up the naval quarters. The patch of grass was lush and green, but the grey concrete of the houses opposite and the steely skies above made the space look oppressive. She glanced at her watch. It was only nine o’clock, eight hours till she’d see her Englishman again.
‘It’s laundry day today,’ Lucy said and sighed, lifting herself heavily from the chair. ‘I like to have a daily routine; makes time pass quicker.’
Kaisa looked at her. Lucy reminded her of the female character in Doris Lessing’s books; she was just like Martha Quest, before she left the oppression of her marriage. Just as Kaisa had imagined Martha, Lucy, too, had a pretty face, with large pale-blue eyes and a luminous complexion. Her long hair, which she kept in an old-fashioned, loose bun, was very fair, almost grey. Her vast tummy had spread around her hips and towards her backside. The middle of her body looked out of place with her slender wrists and small ankles. Kaisa wanted to ask how long she’d been married, and if she’d had a career. Or what she’d done before dealing with washing and ironing, dusting and tidying. But Lucy liked to talk, not to answer questions. She wanted to show Kaisa how to become an efficient naval wife.
Kaisa vowed never, ever to be like Lucy, and never, ever have children.
Peter and Kaisa stayed two nights in Lucy and Roger’s quarters, until a room in a flat became available in Edinburgh on the day before New Year’s Eve.
Peter and Kaisa drove to a part of Edinburgh called Leith in the dark. ‘It’s an old tenement building,’
he said, but Kaisa didn’t know what that meant. ‘Where poor people lived,’ he explained, turning to smile at Kaisa, ‘but don’t worry it isn’t like that anymore.’ He didn’t sound convinced, though. He parked the car on a narrow street, overshadowed by tall buildings on either side, and hauled the luggage out of the boot. All Kaisa could think about was that they’d have their own place for five weeks. It didn’t matter what the place looked like. They could come and go as they pleased; they could stay in bed all weekend if they wished.
The vast hallway had a wide, stone staircase. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. On the second-floor landing Peter stopped in front of a door, one of many that looked exactly the same, and rang the bell. A slim dark-haired girl appeared, and immediately flung herself into Peter’s arms. He kissed her cheek, and freeing himself from her embrace, pulled Kaisa to his side. ‘This is my girlfriend.’
‘Kaisa, meet Frankie.’
‘Hi,’ the girl said and took Kaisa’s hand. Her slim fingers felt bony and cold. ‘Come in!’ she said, moving aside to let them pass. She nodded to Kaisa and smiled into Peter’s eyes.
The flat had high ceilings and smelled musty. The room that Frankie showed Peter and Kaisa was as big as Kaisa’s living room in Lauttasaari. It had a large bay window overlooking the street, a set of heavy brown curtains hanging either side of the glass, with yellowing net curtains obscuring the view. There was a single mattress on the floor, an electric heater in front of a small fireplace, a table with two chairs, and a single comfy chair covered in dark-green fabric.
‘This is great,’ Peter said.
‘How do you know her?’ Kaisa asked, as casually as she could, after the dark-haired girl had left them alone in the massive room. The lyrics of Tempted by Squeeze again rang in her ears. Was this slim girl with cold fingers Peter’s ‘accident’? Would he really bring Kaisa under the same roof as ‘the girl’?
‘Frankie? She’s the sister of a friend.’ Peter took Kaisa in his arms and kissed her neck. Kaisa closed her eyes and decided not to think about anything else but the sensation of Peter’s body against her own.
Kaisa and Peter spent their first full day, New Year’s Eve, in the flat in Edinburgh, kitting out the room with missing essentials. Their street was just off Leith Walk, where small shops sold everything from light bulbs to loaves of bread. On the corner was a place called Naz Superstore. In there, Peter and Kaisa bought a cheap reading lamp, a travel alarm clock and a small transistor radio. Kaisa felt like they were a young married couple buying the first supplies for their new home. An Asian man rang the till, then with a heavy Scottish accent told Peter what they owed. They walked out of the shop hand in hand, carrying their purchases back to the flat. It was cold and rainy outside but inside it felt even cooler. Frankie, the landlady, the dark-haired girl, was standing in the hallway as Peter and Kaisa entered. She wore a short skirt, long leather boots and a black waxed jacket. Around her neck she’d tied an expensive looking silk scarf. Kaisa felt shabby and inappropriately dressed in her new suede jacket, which wasn’t standing up very well to the rain. Wet streaks had formed in the front and back, soaking through to the padded lining.
‘I’m off to a party tonight. You guys doing anything?’ Frankie asked.
‘I’m on duty tomorrow morning,’ Peter replied. The girl kissed him on the cheek, nodded to Kaisa, and disappearing out of the door, shouted, ‘Too bad. See you in 1983!’
‘How come she’s got a big flat like this?’ Kaisa said, scrutinising Peter’s face. She still wasn’t sure about Frankie, though she just couldn’t believe Peter would be as stupid and unfeeling as to bring her to the home of someone he’d been to bed with. However much of an ‘accident’ it had been.
‘I think it belonged to her aunt or something.’
Peter had spotted a small pub opposite the tenement block and thought it would be a good place to see in the New Year. But when they entered, he instantly regretted his decision. The pub was full of middle-aged, chain-smoking men.
When Peter asked what Kaisa would like to drink, she said ‘A pint of 80 shillings’. In Finland, girls always drank what the guys did, and Peter always had a pint.
Peter turned to her, away from the bar, and said quietly, ‘I’ll get you a half.’
Kaisa looked around the brightly lit pub. She noticed she was the only woman there. Peter drank his pint quickly; the men, who’d stopped talking as soon as Peter and Kaisa had entered, didn’t start again until he handed the empty glasses to the barman and headed for the door. When Kaisa asked what it had all been about, Peter said, ‘They hate the English.’
Kaisa didn’t understand any of it; she took his arm and started running towards the door of their block of flats. It was bitterly cold and the air hung heavy with rain, or even snow. Kaisa and Peter opened a bottle of red wine they’d bought earlier and drank it in bed, huddling against the warmth of each other’s bodies as 1982 turned into 1983.
* * *
During the weeks in the cold room in Leith, Kaisa and Peter fell into a routine of sorts. On the mornings Peter was working at the base in Rosyth, he’d get up first and put on the electric heater, before Kaisa could even think of getting out from under the blanket. To keep warm in bed, she wore Peter’s thick submarine socks and long white uniform shirt. Kaisa would lie in, watching Peter get washed and dressed. She’d hear him start his car each morning, and if it wasn’t playing up, listen to him drive off along the road. She was amazed how the noise, echoing between the tall tenement blocks, travelled up to the third floor. She’d wait until the room got a little warmer, not getting out of bed until gone ten. Then she’d either walk into town or take the bus to the university library. The room was too cold for her to concentrate on anything but trying to keep warm and she just couldn’t study like that. Besides, she didn’t feel brave enough to use the lounge in the flat in case she’d bump into Frankie.
It rained every single day of the five weeks Kaisa and Peter spent in the cold, dark flat in Edinburgh. Kaisa realised early on that she’d brought the wrong clothes. The suede coat, of which she’d been so proud, was ruined, and the beige leather boots looked dirty. But Kaisa fell in love with Edinburgh in spite of the cold and the rain. The city was dominated by the imposing castle, which at night was lit up and looked like a fairy tale fortress. It bewitched her. The people she met in shops along Leith Walk or on Princes Street, in the more affluent part of the city, or at the university, were friendly, in a direct, almost Finnish way. This was Viking country after all, she realised.
Peter and Kaisa had so little money they had to count up coins for their drinks in the pub. They bought food every day, and always overspent. But being poor didn’t matter. They laughed about it and promised themselves they’d be rich one day. The most important thing was that they were together. It seemed the longer she spent with Peter, the more in love with him she became. Kaisa tried not to think about the future, or that, as always, time was ticking away; her return home getting closer by the day.
Peter introduced Kaisa to blue cheese in an Italian delicatessen on Leith Walk. They ate the Gorgonzola with water biscuits and a bottle of cheap red wine on the floor of the cold room, laughing and listening to Radio One on the small transistor radio. In the tiny kitchen at the other end of the flat, Peter cooked new foods that Kaisa had never heard of: beef kebabs, shepherd’s pie, chilli con carne.
Some nights they would meet up with Peter’s many friends in the small, dimly-lit pubs scattered around the old part of the city. Its cobbled streets and low buildings were as charming and enchanting to Kaisa as the castle. She felt she was living a dream.
The evening before Peter was due to drive Kaisa down to Newcastle to catch a ferry to Gothenburg, the first leg of her long journey back to Finland, she cried. The shoulder of Peter’s shirt was soaked with tears.
‘I know this is the end,’ Kaisa sobbed. She had no idea when she’d next see him. Peter didn’t know where he’d be based next, or even when that would be.
‘This is just the way the Navy is. You must trust me,’ Peter said, taking Kaisa’s face between his hands. ‘You know I love you.’
Kaisa looked into his eyes. Before she knew what she was saying, the words came out of her mouth. ‘But what if...what if there’s another girl, just like our landlady, and another accident?’
Peter stared at Kaisa. He dropped his hands and walked over to the large bay window. He formed his hands into fists and looked down at the dark street below. Kaisa held her breath. She wanted to take the words back, yet at the same time she wanted to hear what he had to say. Kaisa couldn’t bear another long journey across Europe, not sleeping, thinking about this girl. She had to know the truth. Who was she? What had she meant to him? If, as he claimed, it was nothing, a mere mistake, what then of their future? Did Peter still want to spend it with Kaisa; did he still want to marry her one day? Or would Kaisa return to Finland without a boyfriend. To carry on as if they were together, but not bound to each other: ‘free’. Kaisa had to know before she left. She just had to.
‘You know I love you,’ Peter said, not turning around. He folded his arms across his chest.
Kaisa got up and went to stand next to him. She put her head on his shoulder. ‘And I love you.’ She burrowed herself between his chest and his hands. He laughed, briefly. It was a dry sound, almost a cough.
‘I need to know,’ Kaisa said quietly.
‘It wasn’t Frankie. How stupid do you think I am?’ Peter said, freeing himself from Kaisa’s embrace. He walked to the other side of the room.
‘Who was it then?’
‘I told you, nobody.’
Kaisa thought for a while. ‘So what are we going to do?’
Peter came over to her and took Kaisa’s hands into his, ‘We’ll find a way. I promise. You know I’m going to miss you so much. Being here on my own in this flat, in this room…’
‘I know,’ Kaisa said. His eyes looked sad, his hands were trembling. She knew he was speaking the truth.