The English Heart

by Helena Halme

  ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  He reached across the shiny tabletop and took her hand. His fingers felt cold against her skin.

  ‘You know I love you.’

  Peter’s mouth was a straight line. His eyes were wide. He looked almost scared. Kaisa’s heart sank. Had he heard from the Navy Appointer? Was this bad news?

  ‘I know.’

  Peter pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small black box. ‘This isn’t quite the kind of place I imagined I’d do this, but…’ He looked deep into her eyes and opened the box to show her the contents.

  Kaisa saw gold and glittery stones. She looked up at Peter.

  ‘And I really wanted to ask your father first.’

  Kaisa’s mouth was dry; she couldn’t speak. She wanted to throw herself at Peter. Kiss him, hug him, feel him close to her. But the people around them, munching on their burgers, loudly sucking at their straws in their near-empty paper cups of Coca Cola, with the smell of French fries everywhere, made her stop.

  ‘So, what I’m asking, is...’

  Still Kaisa couldn’t speak. And Peter was struggling to say the words. She wanted to help him and say, ‘Yes, yes, a hundred times yes,’ and very nearly did, but then realised he hadn’t actually asked her yet. What if by some awful mistake she’d completely misunderstood? Kaisa looked down at the ring in front of her, then at his straight mouth. How she wanted to kiss those narrow lips, taste the cigarettes and mint, feel the roughness of his always unshaven-looking face.

  ‘Would you please marry me?’

  Kaisa smiled and said simply, ‘Yes.’

  * * *

  On the day before Christmas Eve Peter and Kaisa took their first ever flight together from Helsinki to Stockholm. Though there was no snow on the ground, and the landscape looked dark and miserable, it was magical. To be standing together in the passport queue, rather than saying goodbye on the other side, seemed unreal. Then walking through the airport terminal holding hands, looking at the tax-free shops, selling furs, china or wooden goods to tourists, felt so wonderful that Kaisa wanted to pinch herself. Surely she was dreaming? Peter bought a bottle of gin, although he said it would have been half the price in England. He’d fretted about not having any presents for Kaisa’s mother and sister but she gladly put both their names on the little cards to go with the gifts. These were their first Christmas presents given together.

  The new ring burned on Kaisa’s finger and she couldn’t stop touching it, or gazing at the sparkling diamonds. Peter said he’d bought it as soon as he heard from the Appointer. The letter had been short but to the point, ‘The Royal Navy cannot see any reason why one of its officers should not marry a Finnish passport holder.’ He hadn’t told Kaisa before because he wanted to surprise her with the ring.

  As soon as they arrived in Kaisa’s mother’s small flat in Lidingö, she announced there was going to be an engagement party on Boxing Day. Kaisa blushed, thinking what Peter would make of her mother’s friends, some of whom were a little eccentric. There’d be the Polish dentist, who called herself Kaisa’s aunt, even though there was no family connection, and who had been telling Kaisa to sit up straight and beware of Communists ever since she was a teenager.

  There would be Kaisa’s mother’s childhood friend, with whom she’d lost contact until a chance meeting on the ferry 20 years later. Kaisa must have heard the story a hundred times, about how they’d discovered they both lived in Stockholm only a few miles apart. She was lovely but her husband was a self-proclaimed alcoholic who couldn’t stop drinking in spite of loud protests from his wife. He always ended up passing out during any get-together, sparking a loud marital row.

  Then there was the dog.

  Having been nagged for years, Kaisa’s mother had eventually succumbed and got Jerry for the girls right after the divorce. Now, 12 years later, the cocker spaniel was old and frail. He could no longer control his bladder and often ended up peeing in the hallway of the smart block of flats where her mother lived. Once outside, the dog immediately wanted to come inside again, having already done its business. So whoever was unlucky enough to take him for a walk would have to drag the stubborn animal around the streets, appearing ridiculous at best and at worst cruel to any bystanders.

  With all the Christmas cooking to be done, Kaisa’s mother felt Peter would be perfect for this task, especially as he kept offering to ‘do anything to help’. Kaisa tried to warn him but to no avail. He just smiled, kissed her on the lips and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘He’s stronger than he looks,’ Peter said when he returned with Jerry. He told Kaisa how the dog had done a ‘number two’ in the middle of the zebra crossing, in front of a bus full of people. He said he’d never seen so much angry glaring and head shaking as he tried to drag the squatting animal across the road.

  On Christmas Eve, after the long meal had been consumed and the presents distributed, Kaisa joined Peter and Jerry on their nightly walk. She’d wanted Peter to experience a snowy Nordic Christmas, but the weather was still mild and so far only rain had fallen from the sky. At least it was now dry, and when they reached the dark end of the road, where there was a narrow path down to the sea, stars twinkled in the night sky. Kaisa lifted the shivering dog up and Peter traced the galaxies with his gloved hand. ‘There’s Venus, look, and that’s the Plough.’ Kaisa looked up into the black sky and wondered how someone could ever be this happy.

  ‘And that’s the North Star.’

  Peter was quiet for a moment. Then he put his arms around Kaisa, while she placed the dog gently on the ground. ‘I’m very happy,’ he said and kissed her. Then, looking into her eyes, in his faltering Finnish, he said, ‘Minä rakastan sinua’.

  Kaisa replied, ‘I love you too.’

  * * *

  Kaisa’s sister had come back from Lapland and was now working in a hotel in Stockholm again. She was again in the same rented flat, in the same block where Kaisa’s mother lived but one floor below. She’d offered the flat to Kaisa and Peter for Christmas, so they had lots of time alone at night and in the mornings. Had it not been for Kaisa’s mother’s strict timetable and all the cooking that needed to be done, the newly engaged couple would never have left the warm studio flat.

  On Boxing Day, an engagement party was scheduled for 2pm. Kaisa’s mother’s schoolfriend and her small, bearded husband arrived half an hour early. She was twice his size and wore a large paisley-patterned poncho. Peter and Kaisa were lost in her warm embrace. She’d brought along her daughter, who was a friend of Sirkka’s. Kaisa looked at her with relief, even though she’d met her only once before. She was waiflike and wore faded jeans with a pretty layered top. Kaisa was glad that at least there’d be one more person near their age at the party.

  The Polish ‘aunt’ arrived half an hour late. Just as Kaisa’s mother started to worry that she wouldn’t come, through the door she flowed, wearing a tight black satin skirt and a frilly cream blouse.

  ‘Stand up straight, girl!’ she said in her strongly accented Swedish, as she hugged Kaisa. Turning to Peter, she said, ‘Let me see.’ There was an awkward moment when she started to rummage around in her handbag with one hand, while holding onto Peter with the other. Peter gave Kaisa a look of panic, but finally her ‘aunt’ found her glasses, put them on and started to examine the Englishman more closely. Kaisa looked at her mother, imploring her to stop the examination, but Kaisa’s mother just shook her head. There was nothing they could do but wait for the verdict, hoping it would be an agreeable one.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Kaisa’s Polish ‘aunt’ exclaimed, ‘Dobry!’

  ‘Good?’ Kaisa’s mother said in Swedish. ‘Tak!’ The ‘aunt’ smiled broadly at Kaisa and Peter. ‘See, your mother speak Polish fluently!’

  Kaisa translated her Swedish words to Peter. He looked a little pale, so she took his hand and led him to the lounge, where the small bearded man was already drinking vodka and Coke. He lifted his glass and smiled. He
very rarely said more than two words. During the twenty years that the couple had lived in Sweden only her mother’s friend had learned a little Swedish. Their daughter translated necessary forms and other official documents for them. Kaisa’s mother disapproved of this. ‘All their friends are Finns,’ she’d said to Kaisa. ‘So they don’t learn the language. I’m not going to be like that. Besides, I already speak Swedish very well.’

  As the odd group of people sat around the small coffee table and ate the Princess Tårta sponge cake, which her mother had somehow hidden from her during Christmas, the conversation ran more of less smoothly in three languages. Kaisa did most of the translating, while sitting close to Peter, holding onto his hand.

  The Finnish man got drunk, and as usual he and his poncho-wearing wife had to leave early to avoid a huge argument. ‘See what I have to put up with!’ Kaisa’s mother’s friend said, as she led her family into a waiting taxi. The daughter just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

  Kaisa’s Polish ‘aunt’ spent most of the time gazing at Peter and Kaisa, sometimes wiping the corners of her eyes. When she left, she held onto their hands and said, ‘Ah, you both so young!’

  Kaisa was surprised by her words. She felt terribly old and experienced. Certainly old enough to be engaged and soon married.

  One thing everyone wanted to know was the date for the wedding, but Peter and Kaisa hadn’t even discussed that yet. Peter’s course in Portsmouth had ended before Christmas and he didn’t know what his next job in the Navy would be. ‘The Appointer is aware I’m getting married in the summer and I hope he won’t send me to a submarine that’s due to sail before then.’ he’d told Kaisa while they lay in bed in Sirkka’s flat that morning.

  Twenty-One

  ‘Getting married in the summer,’ rang in Kaisa’s ears as she waved goodbye to Peter at Helsinki airport a week later, clutching the red rose he’d bought her.

  ‘This will be the last time we have to do this,’ Peter had said before going through passport control. He stroked Kaisa’s hair. She tried not to cry. Knowing they’d soon be together didn’t make saying goodbye any easier. Kaisa felt the ring on her finger and prayed that her last few months in Helsinki would pass quickly. As she watched him disappear from view, it suddenly occurred to her that she’d have to organise a wedding, too. She ran out of the airport terminal and into the waiting bus. There was so much to do!

  Kaisa’s father was due home from his travels that evening. When they’d kissed by passport control, Kaisa felt closer to Peter than ever before. She’d assured him it didn’t matter that he hadn’t asked her father for her hand.

  At home, she put the red rose into a vase next to her bed and went into the kitchen.

  Kaisa had planned to cook her father’s favourite meal: meatballs in a creamy sauce with boiled potatoes. She made a salad, too, but knew he wouldn’t want any. He called it ‘rabbit food’.

  ‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’ she asked.

  Kaisa and her father were sitting opposite each other at the small kitchen table. She wondered if he’d spotted the ring on her left finger.

  Kaisa’s father lifted his head from the food and looked at her from under his light-coloured, unruly eyebrows, ‘In Oulu?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He put down his knife and fork, ‘In Lapland they don’t even know how to bake a ham properly. They’re not really Finns; they’re too close to the North Pole.’ He paused, then a smile flitted across his untidy face. He looked tired. ‘But the Christmas tree didn’t cost anything. We felled it from one of the forests her family have. They’re big landowners up there.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Kaisa said and rested her chin on her left hand. But her father went back to eating, ladling the food into his mouth as if he’d never been fed. Kaisa sighed. ‘I got this,’ she said, stretching her arm across, shoving the hand with the sparking diamond ring under his nose.

  It took him a little while to comment. He looked at the ring as if it was on fire. Or infectious. His eyes moved slowly from Kaisa’s hand up to her face. She smiled. He went back to the food and cleared his plate in silence.

  Kaisa sat and waited. She couldn’t eat.

  ‘You’re getting married and moving to England then?’ he said finally.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Getting married in England?’

  ‘I...I don’t know. We haven’t decided yet. It all depends...’

  ‘I’ll pay for it all if you get married in Finland,’ Kaisa’s father interrupted her.

  ‘Oh.’

  Her father’s eyes were squarely on Kaisa. He coughed and said, ‘Anyway...are you happy?’

  Kaisa was so surprised by this question, she didn’t reply for a while. He’d never asked her such a thing. She didn’t think ‘being happy’ entered his consciousness. He scoffed at the modern disease of stress, thought any psychiatrist was a conman, worse if they happened to be female. He called anyone who belonged to a cult, religion, or had any beliefs, ‘one of the Happy People’.

  ‘Yes, very.’

  ‘And, of course, your mother has met the young man, and approves?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kaisa realised her mouth was still open. She closed it and tried to remember the last time her father had called her mother anything other than ‘that woman’, or worse, ‘that bitch’. Had he undergone some kind of personality change?

  ‘Good, good,’ he said, nodding vigorously.

  There was a long silence. Kaisa looked out of the window. It had started snowing at last. Large flakes hung in the air, slowly falling onto the ground. The single lamppost gave an orange glow to the small patch of dead grass outside the house.

  ‘I think this calls for a celebration!’ Kaisa’s father got up and took a bottle of Koskenkorva out of the fridge. He filled two tumblers and lifted his glass.

  ‘Kippis!’

  Kaisa nodded and lifted her own glass. Still she couldn’t speak. They sat in silence drinking the neat vodka. It burned Kaisa’s throat, as it always did. She took small sips and tried not to grimace.

  ‘There’s a lovely church in Espoo, you know,’ her father said.

  Kaisa didn’t know what to say, the conversation was getting more and more absurd. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Have a look and tell me how much it’s all going to cost. I’ve got the funds, so don’t worry about that.’ Kaisa’s father downed the rest of his drink and walked into the living room. She heard him put on the TV, sit down in one of the velour-covered comfy chairs and fart loudly.

  * * *

  Espoo Old Church stood at the end of a country lane, set aside from a newly-built shopping centre. In the distance lay high-rise blocks on one side and a wide motorway on the other. Kaisa and her father went to see it for the first time one Saturday in January 1984. It seemed odd to plan a wedding in a church she’d never been to, but her father said Old Church was the prettiest in the parish. How he knew, Kaisa had no idea. In the past few weeks, he’d been full of surprises.

  The stone-clad church was empty when they wandered down the narrow aisle. Kaisa shivered; the air inside seemed colder than outside. It was strange to think she’d stand here in a few months’ time, arm in arm with her Englishman. There was so much to do before she could get away, and be with him for forever and ever. Kaisa moved her gaze from the simple altar, with its two silver candlesticks, to her father. He stood perfectly still, with his hands in the pockets of his light-grey overcoat. His shoes were unpolished. Instead of his smarter work clothes, he wore the same shabby jogging pants and cardigan that he did when lazing around in front of the TV at home. His eyes met Kaisa’s. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said.

  Her father had been in a funny mood all morning. In the car he’d asked Kaisa how long they’d be away, as if he had some other, more important, appointment to go to. Had he changed his mind about paying for the wedding? But Kaisa wasn’t sure he had any idea of how much it would all be, and neither did she.

  Kaisa walked out. She was afraid som
eone, a pastor or a warden, would come out of the recesses of the church and start asking questions. She wasn’t ready for that; she didn’t even know the date of the wedding yet.

  ‘We have to be in Bastvik in fifteen minutes,’ Kaisa said to her father over her shoulder.

  The Bastvik Manor House faced a central courtyard, with a converted barn on either side. There were bedrooms in each of the outbuildings for the use of overnight guests. The ceilings were low and the furniture antique. It all looked perfect, even if there was just one bathroom in each corridor for the guests to share. Surely Peter’s family wouldn’t mind? The woman who showed them around the rooms smiled. Back at the Manor House she checked a large book and confirmed there were still dates available for a function in the summer. ‘How many wedding guests are there going to be?’ she asked Kaisa’s father.

  ‘Not too many, I hope,’ he sneered.

  The woman’s smile froze.

  Kaisa looked down at her hands. ‘How many can you accommodate?’ she asked.

  ‘The maximum number is seventy-five.’

  ‘That many!’ Kaisa’s father said.

  ‘That should be more than enough,’ Kaisa quickly added.

  ‘Good, good,’ the woman tried to smile at Kaisa’s father again, but she ended up smirking in a futile effort to lift everyone’s spirits.

  Kaisa and her father didn’t speak on the way home in the car. As they got closer to his house, Kaisa’s anger rose. After being so keen on the wedding, and so normal, this morning, he’d embarrassed her in front of the woman in Bastviken. What must she think of them? How was Kaisa now going to arrange the wedding with her? She looked at the leaflet the woman had given her. The rates seemed reasonable. After Kaisa’s father’s comment about the number of guests, the woman had suggested a domestic sparkling wine for the toasts and a cheaper meal option. No fish course, and chicken instead of veal as a main.

  Kaisa sighed.