by Helena Halme
Later that same evening, when Tuuli and Kaisa were walking up the windy Arkadiankatu to the disco, Kaisa said, ‘This is not goodbye. I’ll see you in June, before the wedding!’ She’d be back for at least two weeks, to allow for the fitting of the wedding gown and a hen party, which Heli and her other old schoolfriends had already started planning. Kaisa was freezing in her tight-fitting, white velvet jeans and satin blouse. Her suede coat had never been the same after six weeks of rain in Edinburgh.
‘Of course,’ Tuuli said, and she put her arm around Kaisa’s shoulders. ‘But you promise to write, yes?’ She turned to face Kaisa. She’d stopped walking.
Kaisa looked at her friend’s serious face. ‘I promise.’ Kaisa took Tuuli’s arm and they hurried to the warmth of the disco.
The following day, Friday, was Kaisa’s last working day at Stockmann’s. When she saw the familiar faces, Kaisa realised that even though she’d been wishing for so long to be away from Helsinki and Finland, to finally leave it wasn’t so easy. The doubts hovering in her mind about the seriousness of the decision didn’t help. Her colleagues questions about what she was going to do in England, when she was going to get married, or where she was going to live, exhausted her, and Kaisa wished the evening would speed along. Half an hour before closing time, the floor manager gave Kaisa a card and a present – a pinnie made out of blue-and-white checked fabric, the colours of the Finnish flag. Kaisa hugged them all in turn before returning her name badge, uniform and discount card to the personnel department on the top floor.
When Kaisa returned home later that evening her legs ached. But she was relieved the house was dark and quiet; her father would not be home tonight either. Kaisa had just sat down in front of the TV and put her feet up on the sofa when the phone rang.
‘What’s up?’ Peter said when he heard Kaisa’s voice.
Kaisa couldn’t explain how she felt to him. They’d been talking about the day she’d finally move to England, for so long, she wasn’t able to explain to him that she now felt sad that the much-awaited day was nearly here. Instead, she started talking about the wedding. That they’d finally be able to be together forever was the only thought that kept Kaisa going now. She talked about the arrangements for the big day: Sirkka, she said, was telephoning her daily with updates and questions on guest lists or table placements.
‘Oh,’ Peter said absentmindedly. ‘Where did you say this was again?’
Kaisa was silent. She’d told him on several occasions about the changed venue, why it had happened and how upset she was with her father.
‘You there?’
‘Yes. Look, I’ll call you from Stockholm on Sunday, OK?’ Kaisa put the receiver down. She felt stupid for getting upset over such a small thing and was glad she hadn’t actually had a fight with Peter. What was the matter with her?
That night, when already in bed, Kaisa heard the front door go. Her father walked into the house. He kicked off his boots, rattled the clothes hangers in the hall and used the lavatory. Then all went quiet. Kaisa looked at the time; it was well past twelve o’clock. She wondered if he was drunk. His movements had seemed quite controlled though; perhaps he was sober and had come by car from his girlfriend’s place. Kaisa tossed and turned in her bed for hours. She didn’t want to see her father ever again. She’d managed to avoid him since the night when he’d refused to invite her mother to the wedding. On the Monday, rather than ask for help with the car, she’d taken a taxi to transport the two cardboard boxes containing her belongings to the railway station. They would take a month or so to arrive in Portsmouth, but the cost was included in the train ticket through Europe to Harwich. The taxi journey to Helsinki station had cost more than the transport to England, but it was worth it if Kaisa didn’t have to see her father. But here he was now, at home. And tomorrow would be Saturday and he’d be free from work. How in this small house was Kaisa going to avoid saying goodbye to him?
Suddenly she remembered the stolen books. While living in his house, she’d occasionally referred to two expensive volumes of Finnish/English dictionaries her father had. In her fury at his betrayal, Kaisa had packed both volumes in one of the cardboard boxes. They were in a container ship somewhere in the middle of the Baltic now. What if he noticed the large gap in his bookshelf where the dictionaries normally stood?
Twenty-Three
Kaisa finally fell asleep around three o’clock in the morning. She dreamt she’d hit her father with a large ice-hockey stick and drawn blood. He’d been trying to lead Kaisa into a darkened room. She woke with a start and heard movements in the kitchen. Her alarm clock showed it was five to seven in the morning. There was a strip of light under the door to the bedroom.
Kaisa found her father in the kitchen, sitting at the table looking out of the window. It was the day she was due to board the train to the ferry port in Turku, then the ferry to Stockholm and onwards through Europe to Harwich, leaving her country of birth for good. Kaisa saw her father was in his nightwear: a pair of long johns and an undershirt. He had a cup of coffee without a saucer in front of him. It was still dark outside; she was wondering what he was looking at when he spotted Kaisa’s reflection in the window. He gave her a sheepish smile, which she didn’t return. She didn’t care if this morning he was being nice Dr Jekyll again. Soon she’d be away from here and never have to deal with his dual personality ever again.
‘Coffee?’ he asked.
Kaisa sat down in spite of herself. She was so angry she wanted to take his cup and pour the hot coffee over his head. That he tried to appease her with that boyish smirk of his, as if all he needed was to be nice to her again. Kaisa briefly wondered if he had vodka in his coffee, but she didn’t get any hint of alcohol from his breath when he poured her a cup. He sat heavily back in the wooden chair. Its faint creak was the only sound in the kitchen. Kaisa’s father’s eyes were still on her, but now he’d stopped smiling. She tried to avoid his glance.
‘So you’re off today, then?’ he said.
Kaisa nodded.
‘I’ll drive you.’
Kaisa opened her mouth to say there was no need, but hesitated. His blue eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles around them. He was unshaven and his hands shook when he fiddled with the ear of the coffee cup. Kaisa looked at her own hands and realised she’d inherited his bone structure. She chased the thought away; she wasn’t going to fall into that trap again. This time Kaisa wasn’t going to forgive him for the hurtful things he’d said about her mother, or for backing out of organising the wedding. Sirkka said he’d only done it to get out of paying for it, and Kaisa was beginning to suspect this was true.
‘No, I’ll take a taxi,’ Kaisa said.
‘Nonsense, you need to save your money. I’m taking you. No discussion.’ His eyes were serious now.
Kaisa shook her head. She didn’t know what to say, so got up and left the kitchen. She trembled as she sat on her bed. What was her father playing at?
‘What time is your train?’ he shouted after Kaisa.
‘Three o’clock,’ Kaisa shouted back before realising this was an acceptance of the lift he was offering. She put her head into her hands and looked at the alarm clock: twenty-five minutes past seven. In eight hours’ time she’d be on the train to Turku and in twenty-four hours’ time she’d be with her mother and sister in Stockholm. Kaisa decided to get dressed quickly and go to say goodbye to a schoolfriend who lived nearby. She could cycle to her house in ten minutes, then come back via the shopping centre in Tapiola, where she needed to draw all the money from her bank account. That would take a couple of hours from the day; the rest could be spent in her room, finishing the packing.
* * *
When Kaisa returned, the house was empty. Sighing, she went to the telephone and dialled her mother’s number.
‘Calm down. If he wants to take you, let him.’ Her mother sounded so strong. Kaisa wished she was already with her in Stockholm. She felt so incredibly tired. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy time? The
time before marrying the man of her dreams, the love of her life? Why was everyone trying to make it as difficult as possible? Or just her father. Why was he trying to make it so hellish for her?
Kaisa finished the conversation with her mother and went to wash her face. She had to pull herself together.
Kaisa’s father returned half an hour before Kaisa had to leave. She was already wondering if she should call a taxi, when she heard the front door go. Kaisa had no idea where he’d been but was glad he’d stayed away. Evidently he didn’t want a long-winded goodbye either. Kaisa was ready, sitting in the kitchen eating a rye sandwich and drinking a cup of coffee, when he walked in. Her stomach churned when she saw him and she didn’t want to finish the sandwich. But she knew what her father’s opinions were on leaving food uneaten, and forced down the last piece of bread and cheese.
‘All ready?’ he said. He stood in the doorway, and nodded at Kaisa’s suitcase in the hall.
‘Yes’
‘We’d better be off then.’ Kaisa’s father took hold of the suitcase and said, ‘Oh, oh!’
Kaisa couldn’t help herself and let out a short laugh. It came out more like a snort. She knew the case was heavy. She’d bought some wheels in Stockholm, to make it easier to transport. Otherwise she knew she’d not manage the long walk between the railway station at Turku Harbour and the ferry terminal. Briefly, she felt relieved that her father was driving her. He’d help to lift the case onto the train at Helsinki, which a taxi driver would not do. Or at least that’s what Kaisa hoped. You never knew, her father might be equally unwilling to park the car at the station.
Kaisa soon regretted not taking a taxi.
It started in the car on the long bridge by Lauttasaari Island. In the dim light of the car interior Kaisa’s father said, ‘So what’s happening with the wedding?’
She couldn’t believe her ears.
‘We’re getting married at Tampere Cathedral. Mother’s paying for the wedding. So you needn’t worry.’ Kaisa hoped he detected the sarcasm.
‘She can afford it, can she?’ he sneered.
Kaisa looked at his profile. His eyes were on the road and his lips were set in a straight line. He looked a little tidier than he had that morning; clean-shaven and wearing his striped Marimekko shirt with dark blue cords. This was the outfit she’d chosen for him when he’d asked Kaisa’s advice on clothes shopping a few years ago. It had been a strange day. Her father had once again behaved as if he was a normal, loving, funny man, taking his daughter out shopping and then to an expensive restaurant for lunch. Once again, Kaisa wondered how he could change from one extreme to another so quickly.
It was as if he’d read her thoughts. ‘It all went wrong with us when you moved in, you know.’
‘Really!’ Kaisa’s anger rose again.
‘Yes. And I bet it was your mother’s idea?’
‘What?’
‘Yes, it’s all her nasty plan, I’m sure. You and I have always got along, unlike your sister...’ here he had the sense to stop. But he continued with his incredible thesis. ‘Your mother knew living together would cause a rift between us and that’s exactly what she was after.’
Kaisa was silent for a long time. They were waiting at the traffic lights at Hietaniemi. She looked at the red lights and counted to ten. But ten wasn’t a high enough number.
‘So it’s nothing to do with the fact that you’re a selfish, nasty bastard who doesn’t love anybody and will never be happy? You’re mean and don’t want anyone else to be happy either. You don’t think of anyone else but yourself. You never have. You and I have never “got on”, as you put it. Have you forgotten how you tried to hit me? You weren’t satisfied with hitting mother black and blue in Stockholm, you had to strike your sixteen-year-old daughter too. I guess I was just a little annoying, wasn’t I?’
Kaisa’s father turned his face away from the road and faced her, ‘But I didn’t hit you!’
‘No,’ she said quietly, when her father was once again looking at the road and not her. ‘But you came very close, raising your hand. That’s enough.’
Kaisa heard her father’s breathing grow heavy. In silence they passed Arkadiankatu and the university disco.
Kaisa spoke into the silence. ‘And another thing: last year when I was really ill and phoned you from hospital, you didn’t want to help me. You stayed away just so that you’d not catch the stomach bug. When I was so poorly, you made me take the bus all the way into town to collect money from you. Who were you thinking about then? I had salmonella poisoning and, frankly, needed to be looked after. Where were you? Hiding at your girlfriend’s place, that’s where!’
Kaisa’s father said nothing. Kaisa, too, was now quiet while he drove down Annankatu, past the bus station, crossed Mannerheim Street and parked outside the railway station. When she got out of the car, she saw her father was already by the boot, lifting up her suitcase. Kaisa hurried out and reached her hand towards the handle of the suitcase, not looking at him. But her father nudged Kaisa’s hand away with his elbow, locked the car, and struggling with the heavy luggage, began walking towards the station building. Kaisa stood still for a moment. Why wouldn’t he just leave her? She’d told him what she thought of him now. She didn’t regret one word, but she had nothing more to say to him. She picked up her Marimekko shoulder bag and the wheels for the suitcase and followed her father into the station.
Looking meek as a lamb, with his shoulders hunched, his eyes trying to search Kaisa’s, her father stood next to his daughter on the platform. There was a bitterly cold wind blowing through the station. Kaisa had told him what carriage her pre-booked seat was in, but those were the only words that had passed between them since the car journey.
‘Go on,’ he now said, motioning with his head towards the door of the train carriage. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, but Kaisa had no pity left for him. She was still angry, and jubilant with it. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother what she’d said to him, how at last, after all these years of biting her tongue, Kaisa had been able to let rip and tell her father exactly what she thought of him.
When Kaisa found her seat on the train, her father went to lift the heavy bag onto the parcel shelf. ‘No,’ she said and motioned towards a space between the seats.
‘Right,’ Kaisa’s father said, and he looked at his daughter.
This time Kaisa returned his gaze. She felt strong. She was in the right. He was a mean bastard, just like Sirkka always said.
But her father moved towards Kaisa and gave her a bear hug. She froze. Holding her tightly, he said, ‘I’m sorry.’ He let go of Kaisa and hurried out of the door.
* * *
The last leg of Kaisa’s train journey across Europe, from Harwich to London’s Liverpool Street Station, seemed to take forever. She was dead tired from three days of travelling and had not slept a wink during the Channel crossing. By the time she got to the train at Harwich it was full, with the only free seat in the smoking compartment. Sitting there among people puffing at their cigarettes, Kaisa suddenly fancied one herself, even though she only smoked when she had a drink. It might perk her up a bit. But the unopened carton of Silk Cut that she’d bought in the tax free shop, mainly for Peter, was inside the Marimekko shoulder bag on the parcel shelf. Kaisa lifted her eyes to the bag and looked at the gangly boy who had the seat next to her. He was fast asleep, with his head resting on his chest and his mouth open. His breath smelled of alcohol. His long body was blocking Kaisa’s way to the aisle, and she had no wish to wake him. She tried to forget about the cigarette and looked out of the window. But she couldn’t close her eyes and snooze. The train was moving through a startlingly green landscape. Unlike the barren fields she’d left behind in Finland, there was no snow and the sun was shining brightly. Kaisa leant her head against the seat. Only two hours until she’d see Peter. Only two hours until she’d officially moved to England.
When the train at last pulled into Liverpool Street Station Kaisa waited until m
ost people were out of the carriage. The gangly boy carried her heavy suitcase down the steps and onto the platform. Kaisa smiled a thanks and he gave her a nod. ‘No problem, Hen,’ he said in a Scottish accent.
Once she’d fixed the wheels onto the suitcase, Kaisa quickly wheeled it down the long platform, towards a busy station concourse. She looked around and tried to spot the tall Englishman. But she couldn’t see him. Kaisa waited for five minutes, then began to worry. People were looking at her and she became conscious of her appearance. She felt shabby in her dark-blue jeans and tennis shoes among the smartly dressed businessmen in their pinstripe suits and dark overcoats.
There were several phone booths in the middle of the station, and after another ten minutes had passed Kaisa wondered if she should join the queue. But who would she phone? Kaisa didn’t want to talk to Peter’s mother in Wiltshire, and she guessed his mother wouldn’t know where Peter was anyway. Kaisa didn’t know if anyone was at home in the house in Southsea. Had she written down the telephone number of the house? She’d never used a phone booth in England. It was bound to be completely unlike the Finnish or Swedish ones. Everything – trains, the Tube, buses, banks and shops – worked differently here. They even drove on the wrong side of the road. Kaisa looked at the long queues snaking out of the two phone booths in the middle of the station concourse. She dreaded to think how impatient the people behind her would become when she tried to work out the telephone system. No, using one of the booths wasn’t an option.
Kaisa decided to stay put and wait. Perhaps the train had been early, she’d not checked what time it was due to arrive; all she knew was that it was mid-morning on the Wednesday. Perhaps Peter had got the wrong day? Kaisa was sure she told him the day clearly, when he’d phoned her in Stockholm on Monday. Peter had made Kaisa smile when he’d said how much he was looking forward to staying in the house together, even if it was for just a couple of weeks. He was leaving for his NATO job in Naples in only ten days’ time. Perhaps something had happened and he had to go early? But surely he would have arranged for word to be sent to her, or for someone else to come and meet her instead?