The Good Heart

by Helena Halme

  Kaisa smiled. Tactfully, Rose hadn’t mentioned Duncan. ‘That’ll be nice.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rose replied.

  ‘So, did he give you a ring?’ Kaisa asked.

  Rose smiled and dug out a small container from her handbag. Inside was a huge emerald ring, the kind that Princess Diana had.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Kaisa said. She knew Roger was quite high up at the newspaper, but she had no idea he was rich enough to afford a ring like that.

  Rose gazed down at the ring, but didn’t put it on. ‘Isn’t it a bit too much?’ she said, but her smile had grown so wide that Kaisa knew she’d say yes to Roger.

  ‘It’s perfect. I’m so happy for you.’ Kaisa got up again and hugged her friend. Rose’s body seemed slight in her embrace and Kaisa felt quite protective towards her. ‘Why don’t we all go out and celebrate in the New Year?’ Kaisa said. Although she’d met Roger several times in the pub, she didn’t know what kind of man he was. Kaisa suddenly felt responsible for her friend and wanted to make sure she wasn’t making a mistake.

  Rose nodded and put the ring back inside its tiny box.

  Thirty

  Peter got off the train in Westbury and saw his sister standing beside her car outside the small station. It was the day before Christmas Eve and it was raining when he emerged from the station building. Peter’s mum had begged him to come home for the holidays, now he wasn’t at sea, and Peter had eventually agreed. Christmas on the deserted base would have been depressing, and the alternative, to go and stay with Jackie in London, didn’t appeal to him. He was trying to cool things with her after she’d thrown a strop about Kaisa. He knew she thought he would propose to her as soon as he divorced Kaisa, but that was the last thing on his mind. And he couldn’t bring himself to send Kaisa the papers a lawyer had prepared for him, not yet.

  Nancy looked flustered, something he wasn’t used to seeing in his older sister. As he sat down in the passenger seat of her her brand-new silver Volvo Estate, he glanced behind at the two Moses baskets strapped head to head in the back seat. While he’d been away at sea, Nancy had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl. They were now about two months old, and both had the Williams’ hallmark mop of dark hair. One of them, the boy, Peter assumed, judging by his powder-blue romper suit, began crying as soon as his sister sat down in the driver’s seat.

  ‘Shh, Oliver,’ Nancy said and quickly started the engine.

  His sister lived in a large Bath stone house in Trowbridge, only a couple of streets from where Peter and Nancy had grown up with their older brother, who now lived in London. Her sister’s magnificent, detached house was a lot grander than their old family terraced house, but that was explained by the man his sister lived with (scandalously unmarried, even though Nigel kept asking Nancy to tie the knot). Nigel owned his own estate agency, which took on properties over a certain price. Nancy had known Nigel since school, and they’d been going out forever, so neither Peter, nor his mother, understood why she wouldn’t marry. Nancy just smiled, and said, ‘There’s no hurry, is there?’ The twins had obviously made it more urgent, as Peter’s mother had pointed out in one of her many letters to Peter, but Nancy had simply said that she wasn’t going to walk down the aisle with a huge bump under her dress.

  When she parked the car outside a green garage door, Nancy asked Peter to carry one of the babies inside. As soon as Peter lifted Oliver’s basket, he opened his large blue eyes, lifted his little arms up and began to whinge.

  ‘Just let him cry,’ Nancy said in an exasperated voice as she led the way into the house. She placed Beth, the baby girl, on the kitchen table and told Peter to place the other basket next to it. The kitchen, like the hall they’d walked through, was wide and filled with light from the French windows overlooking the garden. Everything looked new; since Peter’s last visit they’d fitted out the kitchen with light-coloured cabinets and a breakfast bar with dark leather stools.

  ‘Do you want me to do anything?’ Peter asked over the noise of the babies. Beth had joined Oliver in his protests.

  Nancy looked at Peter, as if considering whether he could be trusted to carry out any kind of task relating to the twins. ‘Sit down at the table and hold Beth while I give Oliver his bottle. ‘Wash your hands first,’ she ordered, and Peter visited the small cloakroom off the hall. When he came back, Nancy had both babies in her arms. The scene was so unfamiliar to Peter that he stood in the doorway, unseen, for a moment. Without realising it, in his mind he replaced his sister’s face with Kaisa’s, and the overwhelming sensation of tenderness and pride he suddenly felt towards the crying babies took him by surprise. He had to swallow a lump in his throat.

  Holding Beth was even worse. Her little fingers were perfect, and her little feet, moving anxiously in the arms of a total stranger, melted Peter’s heart. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said and smiled at his sister, who was feeding the now quiet Oliver from a bottle half-filled with milk.

  ‘Do you want to feed her?’ Nancy asked and showed Peter how to tip the bottle so that Beth could drink without getting air inside her tummy. The little sucking noises Beth made, while still eyeing him suspiciously, brought a smile to Peter’s lips. ‘You’ve done well,’ he said to Nancy, and her sister returned his smile. Gazing down at this little wonder suddenly made all his problems with the court martial and Kaisa’s rejection fade away. Peter realised he was an uncle now, an uncle to these wonderful, new human beings. They were his flesh and blood, if only by a fraction. Inhaling the new baby scent, he vowed to be there for the twins, his little niece and nephew. He would look after them if need be.

  Nigel found the sister and brother feeding the babies in the kitchen. ‘You’ve got a job there if you want it,’ Nigel joked. He was wearing a smart business suit and was carrying a large leather briefcase, which he plonked onto the breakfast bar. He gave Nancy a peck on her cheek and said, ‘Fix me a G&T while I make a couple of calls.’

  Nancy just nodded, but Peter said, ‘I’ll do that while you see to these two.’ Beth had fallen asleep in his arms, so Nancy placed her back into the Moses basket.

  ‘So, how’s the life of a sailor?’ Nigel said when Peter handed him the drink. He was sitting, still in his suit, in an armchair in the corner of the lounge, next to a green pot plant. His round face was a little flustered, as if the effort of walking from his car to the house was taking a toll on him. Peter noticed he’d put on weight; the striped shirt underneath his suit jacket was straining at the buttons. His fair hair was thinning, and he looked every bit the prosperous estate agent he was.

  ‘OK,’ Peter replied. He dreaded these moments with Nigel because, unlike his sister, Nigel didn’t evade any subject. Peter suddenly realised that Nigel completely lacked tact. That must be why he was so successful in business, Peter thought, and took a large gulp of his own G&T. The embodiment of Thatcher’s Britain, Nigel made money out of the rich who wanted bigger and better homes. His company, Hammond’s, didn’t let anyone who wasn’t wearing designer clothes, or at least a smart suit, even walk into their office. ‘I wouldn’t know, we don’t sell council flats,’ Nigel had once sniffed when Peter had asked if there was any money to be made in Thatcher’s new policy of letting council residents buy up their properties.

  ‘You’ve got over that thing, the court martial, now?’

  Peter lifted his eyes to Nigel. He was looking at Peter squarely, inquisitively. Peter saw no malice in his plump face, and wondered how he’d convey to his common-law brother-in-law that this was one subject he really didn’t want to discuss.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, hoping that would do the trick.

  ‘Saw it in the papers. Not too bad, as far as I’m concerned, brought a lot of interest and even a few house sales my way. People love a scandal, and as far as I could see you were well within your rights to give him what’s for.’ Nigel lifted his glass towards Peter. ‘So, well done, I say.’

  ’Thanks,’ Peter said and downed the rest of his drink.

  ‘And that S
candinavian girl, you still married to her?’ Nigel continued.

  There he goes, Peter thought, the second subject he’d rather not talk about. Classic Nigel.

  Peter was rescued by his sister, who’d changed out of the tracksuit she’d been wearing earlier and into a neat little dress that suited her slight frame. ‘Is he boring you with talk of his house deals?’ she said, sitting on the arm of Peter’s chair.

  ‘No, not at all,’ Peter said, and gave Nigel a look that he hoped conveyed his unwillingness to discuss things any further. ‘You look nice,’ he added.

  ‘Well, we thought we’d take you out. One of Nigel’s friends has taken over a pub in Hilperton, and the food’s really good, so we thought we’d go there if that’s OK with you? Nigel’s niece is babysitting. Do you want to have a shower and change before we go?’

  During the meal, when the nice-looking barmaid, who kept giving Peter the eye, took their plates away, Nigel leaned back in his chair. Sending Nancy a quick glance, he said, ‘The reason we wanted to see you before you go to your parents is that I have a proposition for you.’

  Lying in bed in Nancy’s pink guest bedroom later that evening, Peter thought about what Nigel had said to him. ‘My customers would love you, ex-naval officer, good manners, looks and charming personality.’ Peter knew the job would be that of a salesman, but the starting salary Nigel had suggested (without commission) was more than he was earning. But was he ready for the civvy lifestyle? If he was truthful, his last time away with HMS Orion had been the most boring yet. Nothing had happened. They hadn’t got a sniff of a Russian sub, or a destroyer, and the only thing they’d done was endlessly repeat the workouts they’d already completed before going away. And the cramped quarters onboard the diesel submarine had got on his nerves too; as had the jibes about being a ‘Bomber Queen’, the Navy’s slur for the submariners who’d served on the much more spacious Polaris vessels, if he even hinted that he didn’t enjoy living in someone else’s armpit. He hadn’t dared complain about the way they had to sleep and eat their meals in the minuscule wardroom.

  But could he cope with civilian life back in Wiltshire so soon after articles about him had appeared in the local and national newspapers?

  ‘Everyone will have forgotten about it already, the papers will be fish and chip wrappers by now,’ Nancy had said, taking his arm between her hands. ‘We just want you to be happy, Peter,’ she’d added, and it made him realise that she worried about him. Had Nancy and her mother put Nigel up to this?

  Peter promised he’d think about it. Nigel shook his hand as if he’d already agreed to the whole deal.

  * * *

  The next day, Christmas Eve, Nancy drove Peter and the babies, plus a great deal of baby equipment, to his parents’ house.

  For a while Peter stood outside his parents’ house. He’d only been to see his family once since the court martial, a short visit mainly spent holed up in the blue bedroom. The same bedroom in which he’d spent many nights making love to Kaisa, trying not to be noisy. Once he had to hold his hand over her mouth for the duration, and they’d giggled afterwards, realising too late that his parents would hear and think they were still doing it. During his last visit, only days after the court martial, he had cried for the first time since his childhood, remembering how happy he’d been there with Kaisa. He couldn’t remember ever feeling more sorry for himself. It just wasn’t the way he was made.

  His mother and father had been gentle with him, not mentioning the fight, Kaisa’s infidelity, or the court martial. But Peter had seen the disappointment in his father’s eyes. His father had said, without looking at him, ‘You’ll put this behind you. Just work hard, lad, and they’ll forget all about it.’ His father had been in the Navy himself during the war, and although Peter didn’t know much about his time at sea, he could guess that his father had seen and heard far worse than the tale of his pathetic fight with Duncan. His parents had even hidden the papers in which the story appeared, placing them underneath a pile of magazines next to the fireplace in the lounge. Of course, on the second morning in his parents’ house, when they’d been at work, he’d found the papers. Disgusted by what they said, he had fled Wiltshire, leaving a note to his mother. ‘Sorry, Mum, couldn’t stay. I’ll write to you. Love Peter.’

  He’d travelled back to Helensburgh and found the flat in Smuggler’s Way cold and empty. There was a letter from Kaisa on the mat, in which she said she’d arrived in Helsinki OK.’ There’d been no mention of when she was going to return. That night Peter had gone to the Ardencaple with Nigel and drunk himself silly.

  Now, as he opened the door to the pink painted bungalow, Peter could still see pain around his mother’s eyes. She hugged him, ‘I am so glad you are home and safe.’

  Peter returned the hug. He was reminded that here were the people who truly loved him. His long and boring time at sea had given him time to think and to put his misadventure into perspective. He had come to realise that he wanted to work hard and make something of himself. He’d thought that something would be his career in the Navy, and that, as his father had told him, he just needed to get his head down and work hard. Which he had. His Captain on HMS Orion had told him he’d done well just before he set off on leave. ‘I had misgivings about you Peter, I can’t lie. But you’ve worked hard and I’m glad to have you as one of my officers.’ That had meant a lot to Peter. He had crossed his fingers and hoped that he’d soon get a call from the Appointer with a better job. But now, for the first time since he’d applied for the Royal Navy at the age of seventeen, he was thinking that perhaps a civilian life might be a better option after all.

  Peter, Nancy and his mother sat around the small kitchen table while the twins slept. ‘We all worry about you, you know,’ his mother said. She placed her wrinkly warm hand over Peter’s on the table and squeezed it hard.

  ‘I know mum, but I’m OK now.’

  ‘Glad to hear it, son.’

  ‘Nigel offered him a job last night,’ Nancy said, and their mother immediately, too soon, replied, ‘Oh really, well that’s something, isn’t it, Peter?’

  Peter smiled but didn’t tell the two women that he’d realised their ruse. He went along with it. ‘I have to think about it, mum. I can’t just leave the Navy like that anyway. I have to give at least one year’s notice, or longer, if they can’t replace me in HMS Orion.’ Peter looked from his sister to his mum, and they both nodded.

  ‘Of course, dear, of course. But it’s worth thinking about, don’t you agree? Nigel is doing very well, and he needs help from someone he can trust. Family, that is.’

  Nancy gave her mother a look of warning, and she got up and put the kettle on. Peter nearly laughed. How did his mother know so much about it if she’d just heard about the job offer now? It was so evident that the two women had plotted this. If he was going to consider the job, he’d need to get Nigel on his own. Peter resolved to swing by his agency on his way back to Plymouth during one of the days between Christmas and New Year.

  Thirty-One

  Kaisa’s Christmas was saved at the last minute by Toni, her boss at Terroni’s. The day before Christmas Eve, he asked what she was doing for the holidays and when he heard she would be alone, he invited her to the restaurant for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. At first, Kaisa refused, but Toni roped in Mama, who in the end convinced Kaisa she was ‘part of the family’ anyway, so she must join them. They had a tradition to close the restaurant and have a big family party, setting all the tables together and closing the curtains to the outside world.

  In the end, Kaisa spent Christmas Eve with her friends from the Adam’s Apple – Rachel, who was now working for the Guardian together with Rose, called in at the café and invited her for drinks at the Coach and Horses. Rose had already left for Dorset, but both Jenny and Rachel were there. Kaisa enjoyed the evening; in London, everyone seemed to be up for a party on Christmas Eve, and Kaisa met and flirted with several good-looking men.

  On Christmas Day,
Kaisa was treated to the best food she’d ever had at Terroni’s. There were fresh griddled fish, delicious salads, ham, pasta and the most fantastic cakes, moistened with coffee and filled with Italian cream cheese and fruits. It wasn’t quite like the quiet Christmases in Finland, but it was better than the one she’d shared with Pammy in Helensburgh, which ended in Kaisa confessing to her affair with Duncan, and led to all that followed. With the Terroni family on Christmas morning, when her glass was refilled over and over again, first with Prosecco then with white and red wines, those dark days in Scotland felt like light years away.

  Kaisa spent New Year with Ravi, again in the Coach and Horses, and then on the morning of 2nd January she got a letter from the BBC asking her to attend an interview. She was so delighted she told Mama and Toni about it. They both looked sad, and made her promise to come back and see them often when she was ‘a famous BBC reporter’.

  ‘I haven’t got the job yet,’ Kaisa had laughed.

  ‘But you will, Bella,’ Toni had replied and hugged her.

  * * *

  Bush House, the headquarters of BBC World Service, was on Aldwych. Kaisa took the tube to Holborn and, because she was early, took a slight detour through the gardens of Lincoln’s Inn Fields. The trees were bare and sad-looking, but the grass behind the iron fence was green, unlike in Finland, where, according to her sister, there was still snow on the ground. When she came to the impressive-looking building, which dominated Aldwych with its tall pillars and inscription reading BVSH HOVSE, Kaisa felt intimidated. Was the incomprehensible lettering Latin? The lobby, too, was high-ceilinged and clad in cream marble. Kaisa had never been inside a place like it. Her voice shook when she asked the lady behind a round desk where she should go. After scanning a list, she gave Kaisa a name badge and told her to wait on a leather sofa.