The Good Heart

by Helena Halme

  ‘Really?’ Kaisa wondered again if Peter had gone alone to the wedding. ‘Tell him I miss him.’

  Peter opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind. After a while, having fiddled with the stem of his wine glass, he said, ‘I will.’

  Kaisa asked Peter about Jeff’s new wife, and Peter told her how practical Milly was, ‘a no-nonsense kind of girl’. Kaisa laughed; they both agreed this was exactly what Jeff needed. Peter said how much in love with her he seemed, and how she could wrap his parents around her little finger. ‘Milly lost both of her parents when she was young, so she’s had to look after herself from an early age,’ Peter said, and added, ‘Saying that, she’s really, really lovely.’

  ‘What’s she going to do now?’ Kaisa knew that Wrens had to resign their commission once they became married, something that seemed Victorian to her. At the same time, how could two Navy careers ever be compatible with children? It would be worse than having a civilian wife who worked in one place. Wrens didn’t go to sea but they got sent to different bases and even abroad if they were appointed to work for Nato.

  ‘I’m not sure, but no doubt she’ll think of something practical that’ll fall in line with Jeff’s career.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Kaisa said. ‘Unlike me,’ she thought but didn’t say anything. Anyway, it was different for an English girl, she thought. And Milly was in the Navy herself, so she knew the drill better than anyone.

  Twenty-Six

  The sight of Kaisa stepping off the train took Peter’s breath away. When he’d suggested she came down to Plymouth, he hadn’t for a second thought that she would. He knew, of course, she wanted to talk about the divorce, but he didn’t know why she was so against it, because that’s what her trip down to him must have meant, surely? But here she now was, wearing those boots that looked so good on her, with a skirt pulled tightly around her small waist. She’d lost weight and a slimmer frame suited her. It made her legs look even longer and her face more slender and fragile-looking. The outline of her small, perky breasts was visible underneath her thin jumper and Peter couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked towards him. She was so stunning, that all the men leaving the train couldn’t help but give her a glance. It made Peter wonder how many men in London had asked her out.

  When Peter had booked the French place, which was the only decent restaurant in Plymouth, he hadn’t realised it was so obviously the number one romantic spot. When he’d been there for Simon’s celebration dinner, after he’d finally got his Dolphins, and become a submariner, there was a group of twenty officers, some with their wives or girlfriends, and they nearly filled the small dining room. But tonight, when he stepped inside the restaurant with Kaisa, Peter felt a little embarrassed when he saw all the other tables occupied by couples leaning in and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. He glanced at her, and hoped she wasn’t getting the wrong idea. ‘This is the best restaurant in Plymouth,’ he said, but immediately regretted his words. That, too, sounded as if he’d planned to make a special occasion out of this evening.

  But everything was so easy with Kaisa; the ordering of drinks, wine, food. They knew each other so well, and talking about old times, about Jeff and his new wife, made the evening go quickly. It wasn’t until Peter noticed it was past ten, and the tall dark-haired waiter, who couldn’t take his eyes of Kaisa either, had brought them coffees that she eventually told him why she was there.

  ‘Look, Peter, I know you want to move on.’ Kaisa leaned closer to him and her piercing blue eyes fixed their beautiful gaze on him. Whether it was all the wine he’d drunk, or whether it was the false naturalness of the situation (him out with his pretty wife; what could be more normal than that?), or whether it was the candlelight that made Kaisa’s face glow and her lips look soft and inviting, he wasn’t listening to what she had to say. Instead, Peter put his hand on hers, picked it up and kissed her palm.

  ‘I love you,’ he said.

  Kaisa pulled her hand away and stared at him. Peter, too, was shocked at what he had said. ‘I mean, I still love you,’ he muttered. ‘You’re still my wife.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Kaisa said. ‘But you said you wanted a divorce.’ She leaned over and whispered the last words. While they’d eaten, drank, talked and laughed, the place had emptied, and they were now the last people sitting down at a table. They’d suddenly both become aware that the two waiters standing at the back of the room, seemingly waiting for them to leave, were now intently listening to their every word.

  Peter looked up and nodded towards their waiter, to show he wanted the bill. ‘We can’t talk here,’ he said to Kaisa.

  Outside, it had started raining. Large drops were rapidly falling down, as if someone was emptying a bucket of water over them. Kaisa had no coat, so Peter gave her his jumper. They ran to Peter’s car and once inside, started giggling. They were both absolutely drenched. Peter’s shirt was sticking to his chest and when Kaisa pulled his jumper over her head, Peter could see her hard nipples poking through her thin jumper. He leaned across the gearbox and took Kaisa into his arms. They kissed with an urgency he couldn’t remember ever feeling with anyone. Peter slipped his hand under Kaisa’s jumper, and she gave a moan when his fingers touched her breasts. He was so hard he thought he might pass out.

  When Kaisa put her hand on Peter’s crotch, he whispered, ‘Back seat?’ The carpark was deserted and with the torrential rain outside, the streets around the Barbican were empty. Kaisa nodded her assent and climbed between the seats. Peter dashed in and out of the car, locked the doors and joined Kaisa on the back seat. As soon as the light inside the car went out, Peter reached underneath Kaisa’s skirt. He pulled her tights and knickers down and hurriedly undid his fly.

  They held each other’s gaze, and when Peter entered her, Kaisa moaned softly and arched her back. He could feel her grip on him and kissed her small, pink nipples, her mouth and finally her slender neck as, with a loud groan, they both climaxed.

  Afterwards they held each other and listened to the rain pelting onto the roof of the car. Peter stroked Kaisa’s blonde hair, which had gone curly in the rain during their passionate lovemaking. She was half-sitting, half-lying down in the crook of his arm, with her legs across the back seat of the car. Peter thought he’d never forget this moment, and stared at the snowy mountain scene that formed the pattern of her skirt. Had she worn the outfit, which she’d often worn when she met him off the train during their marriage, to trap him, he wondered briefly, but brushed aside such thoughts. That was what Jackie or Sam might do, but not Kaisa.

  ‘You OK?’ he now asked her.

  The head underneath his hand moved and Kaisa sat up. Her make-up was smeared and she looked as if she’d been sobbing. Peter was shocked, he hadn’t realised she was crying. ‘What are the tears for?’

  Kaisa put her head in her hands, ‘Oh Peter, what are we going to do?’

  Twenty-Seven

  Peter drove Kaisa to the train station and waited with her until the night train pulled up to the platform. He’d held her all evening after the love-making in the car, and had told her over and over how much he loved her. She too, had told Peter how much she loved him, and promised to write to him. Peter was going to go away in two days’ time, but this time he’d be on a diesel submarine, which meant correspondence would be easier, as the boat would be docking at several ports during its time at sea.

  ‘As long as you write to me too,’ Kaisa had said to Peter, looking into his dark eyes.

  After Peter had climbed back into the driver’s seat, with Kaisa next to him, they hadn’t discussed the future any more. Peter told Kaisa, ‘We’ll work something out,’ and at the time Kaisa had believed him. He held her hand and only removed it to change gears, grabbing hold of her again when they were driving along the main thoroughfare towards the station. It felt so good, this familiar feeling of his fingers around hers. She wanted the drive to go on forever, and very nearly asked Peter to drive her all the way to L
ondon, just so she could carry on being close, inhaling his scent and feeling his warm hand around hers.

  When the train pulled up Peter found Kaisa an empty compartment, where she could lie down across three seats. They hugged and kissed each other for so long, he nearly missed the whistle and got stranded on the train. Hurrying out, he took hold of Kaisa’s hands once more, and said, ‘We’ll be together again, I promise.’ He stayed on the platform to wave goodbye. As she stared at his diminishing figure, she let the tears run freely down her face. No one was there to see her smudged make-up or hear her sniffling.

  Kaisa had a fitful night’s sleep on the train. She was restless because of everything that had happened during the evening, but she was also disturbed by the train stopping at each and every station on the journey to London. When she arrived at Paddington at just past 5.30 am, she could still feel Peter’s kisses on her lips. But then she found out she had to wait for the tube to start running at 6am. Sitting at the end of a bench, just a few centimetres away from a drunk fast asleep and covered with old newspapers, she shivered in her skirt and thin jumper and began to think about the future with Peter. How would they be able to make things work? And how could Peter go from wanting a divorce to wanting them to try again in the space of three days? What was the real reason for the final separation, and his desire for a divorce? Another woman? That girl from the party? Kaisa put her head in her hands, but that made the man next to her shift, and an awful smell of sweat, combined with urine, hit Kaisa’s nostrils. She stood up and began walking along the empty platforms, thinking.

  Even if Peter really did want to make a go of things and wasn’t just ‘thinking with his dick’ as he sometimes said of the sailors and their love lives (or ‘lust lives’ as he put it too), what was he going to do about the woman he was seeing? Supposing there was another woman. A huge problem with a future life together was money. Peter’s salary was just enough to live on if they were in a married quarter, and Kaisa’s salary hardly covered her living costs. Even together they wouldn’t be able to afford to rent a flat in London. Besides, what would be the point if Peter couldn’t afford train fares back and forth to London each time he was ashore and on leave? Then there was Kaisa’s career, which she’d fought so hard to get off the ground. The problems that had always existed between them would still be there. Unless Kaisa gave up her job in London, and moved down to a married quarter in Plymouth, they’d never see each other. But there was no telling how long Peter’s appointment in HMS Orion would last; Kaisa knew that it was highly likely his next sub would be based in Helensburgh. And Kaisa just couldn’t go back to that life. Perhaps she really didn’t love Peter enough? Kaisa fought tears. When a thin man with long, dirty blond hair approached her for money she quickly wiped her tears away and began walking up the road from the station. She found an open café with steamed up windows opposite the station. It was full of construction workers in overalls, but a girl in a pink apron showed her to an empty table at the back.

  ‘What can I get you?’ she said, looking Kaisa up and down. There were a few sneers from the men, and one shouted, ‘Walk of shame, is it love?’

  The waitress turned around and said, ‘Shut up or I’ll throw you out.’ Returning to Kaisa, her pen still poised over her notebook, she said in a hushed voice, ‘Don’t mind the animals here.’

  Kaisa smiled a ‘thank you’ to the girl and ordered a coffee and a cheese roll. The watery liquid warmed her a little, and although she had to scrape a thick layer of butter from inside the bun, eating it made her feel better. How she wished Peter was with her to protect her from the men, who were still leering and shouting the occasional comment on her appearance in spite of the telling off from the waitress. It felt as if they knew she’d been fucked in the backseat of a car only hours before, and she felt dirty and vulnerable. Kaisa nodded to the waitress, who was leaning across a small bar at the back of the café, smoking a cigarette. Kaisa paid and returned to the station, where the early morning rush-hour had begun. Kaisa took the tube to Ladbroke Grove, and tried not to think about Peter or the future.

  * * *

  After a quick shower and a change of clothing in her bedsit, Kaisa got to work just after eight. Rose, as usual, was already there.

  ‘Hi Kaisa,’ she said but only looked up from her desk quickly. Kaisa was glad Rose had forgotten about her trip down to Plymouth; she didn’t have the energy, or desire, to tell her about her wonderful but confusing evening.

  About an hour later, when all the other women had settled themselves behind their desks, Rose stood up and said, ‘I need to talk to you all. I’m afraid I have some very bad, and sad, news.’

  Kaisa and the other members of Adam’s Apple editorial office listened in quiet shock as Rose told them that the paper was folding. ‘We have enough funds to complete this forthcoming issue, but after that, I’m afraid it’s over.’ Her voice trembled and Kaisa could tell her boss was fighting tears. ‘So let’s make this issue the best yet!’ she said and left the room.

  The women looked at each other in shock, then their gazes turned to Rachel, who had been at the magazine the longest and often accompanied Rose to meetings with ‘the money men’.

  ‘But I thought the increased sales figures this summer meant we were OK,’ Jenny said. She wore her usual uniform of a white shirt, buttoned up to her neck, and high-waisted black trousers. She had her hands buried deep inside her pockets.

  Rachel shook her head. ‘They’ve been telling Rose to put up the price, but she won’t because she says it’s vital all women, especially those struggling with money, can afford to buy a copy.’

  Everyone around the room nodded. ‘What are we going to do?’ Jenny said.

  ‘We’ll make the next issue the best yet!’ Rachel said, and at that moment Rose came in. The little make-up she wore had gone, and Kaisa suspected she’d been crying. Kaisa had never seen her face look so white and gaunt.

  She moved her gaze from one face to the next and said, ‘You have been, are, all amazing women, and I am so grateful for all your support over the last six months. But we have to face facts. I have sunk all my money into this project because I firmly believe women need a voice, a sensible voice amongst the glossy magazines advocating traditional values. But there is no more, and it seems my last backers have had enough. But I believe Adam’s Apple has made a difference both in the past, and during my short stewardship, and it has influenced the rest of the women’s press to cover stories that are relevant to the woman of today. All we can now do is make this last issue of Adam’s Apple count, make it into something that will be looked upon as a shining example of modern, feminist journalism.’

  Kaisa and the rest of the staff clapped.

  ‘So, my good women, let’s get back to work!’ Rose said.

  Kaisa went back to her desk, following the example of the others. She tried not to think about the future, because she believed in the magazine and its power to change the lives of women in Britain for the better. And she wanted to do just as Rose had said: help make the last issue the best yet. But she couldn’t help but think about her own situation. She looked around the room. All the other women were seasoned journalists, or editors. They would get work without any problems. Although Adam’s Apple was a radical paper, sneered at by some of the other (male) journalists in the Coach and Horses, she understood from the way the women talked in the office that most people in the industry had a secret admiration for the magazine. It was progressive, left-wing and often challenged the status quo of British society. ‘It’s what every reporter dreams of doing when they’re at journalism school,’ Jenny had once told Kaisa.

  Kaisa sighed. She hadn’t been to journalism school. She looked down at the list of companies she was asking to advertise in the magazine, and saw she was about halfway through. She got up from her desk and went over to Rose.

  ‘Are we still sending these out,’ she asked, holding up one of the letters.

  Rose leaned back in her chair and thought for a
moment. ‘Why not, send them all as usual. We might as well try up till the very last.’ She smiled at Kaisa and then her expression changed. ‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten, how did it go yesterday?’

  Kaisa shrugged her shoulders. ‘Fine, a bit confusing, but fine.’ She couldn’t help herself. A wide, happy smile spread over her face.

  Rose’s eyes were on Kaisa, ‘Oh yes?’ she said. Her voice was full of meaning, and she was grinning.

  Kaisa looked down at her hands. How could Rose know what had happened in Plymouth between her and Peter. Suddenly she felt angry at her boss. It was her life, not Rose’s. If she wanted to sleep with her ex, that was her business.

  ‘I’ll finish these today,’ she said, not looking at Rose. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long.’ Kaisa turned on her heels and returned to her desk. She could feel her face redden and knew Rose was still looking at her.

  At one o’clock Kaisa got up and said she was going to get a sandwich. Rose looked up from her papers. ‘Wait, I’ll come with you.’ The other women around the office were still hard at work, with their heads bent over typewriters, but Rachel glanced up and gave Rose a questioning look. She shook her head, as if to answer an unposed question. Kaisa wondered what the two women had said about her. Rachel knew Kaisa was the only one in the office who wouldn’t be able to get a job when the magazine folded, or had Rose told Rachel about her private life? As far as Kaisa knew, Rose hadn’t told anyone about how they’d met, that Kaisa knew Duncan, her cousin, or what had happened between Kaisa and Duncan. The anger surged again; Rose had no right to tell anyone about her life!

  ‘OK,’ Kaisa said, but she gathered her things and walked quickly out of the office and onto the street without waiting for Rose.