The Good Heart

by Helena Halme

  An older Finnish woman, who introduced herself as Annikki Sands and had a very stern manner, came to fetch her. When they were going up in the lift, Kaisa could make out at least three languages being spoken around her. At Terroni’s she’d become used to hearing Italian, but this was different; it was as if she’d suddenly stepped into the most international and sophisticated world. These people even dressed differently; one man in the lift had a dark moustache and wore a spotted bowtie with a matching handkerchief in his jacket pocket. When he saw Kaisa looking at his attire, he made a slight nod and smiled. Kaisa turned her head towards Annikki, who luckily had her back to Kaisa and so hadn’t seen her fraternising with the locals already. Somehow Kaisa knew the older Finnish woman wouldn’t approve. When they reached the fourth floor, Annikki Sands walked in front of her, past a vast central lobby, where five different red clocks displayed the time in different parts of the world. People were milling around and Kaisa saw two doors surmounted by red lights saying, ‘Quiet: Recording.’

  The interview was conducted in a small, messy office, with piles of Finnish newspapers and magazines stacked high against the walls. The smell of newspaper ink made Kaisa recall her days at Adam’s Apple, but otherwise it couldn’t have been more different. For one thing, everyone spoke Finnish. Kaisa had been in London for such a long time that her Finnish faltered at first and she had to look for words, but she soon got used to it and spoke fluently. The woman, Annikki, didn’t smile once for the duration of the interview. Kaisa assumed she was about the same age as her mother, in her late forties. The man next to her was a little younger and had a very quiet voice and manner. When Kaisa shook his hand, their palms barely touched before he pulled away. ‘My name is Juha Helin,’ he said. Juha was short, with soft sandy coloured hair. He looked kindly, and Kaisa was glad she had had at least one friendly face in the room, especially when Juha seemed impressed by Kaisa’s degree from Hanken, as well as her short career in journalism.

  ‘And you are taking a diploma at the moment in London?’ Annikki Sands asked. Her tone was so level, that it almost dipped at the end of the question.

  ‘Yes,’ Kaisa replied, and when her words were followed by a silence, she realised she should elaborate. She described the subjects she’d covered to date, and told them how much she enjoyed studying at the School of Journalism. Kaisa had noticed that, once again, she was the most highly qualified on her course; none of the others in her class of about twenty people even had a university degree, let alone a Masters from a school of economics. Still, she was studying in a foreign language, which meant that she wasn’t any faster at learning the techniques than her classmates.

  After she’d finished, they both nodded, and then looked at each other.

  ‘Your CV is very impressive. Have you applied for other jobs?’ Annikki Sands asked.

  Kaisa was quiet for a moment, then said, truthfully, ‘No, but my previous employer at Adam’s Apple has suggested a few places, such as the Guardian or the Observer, where she works.’

  Annikki and Juha exchanged glances.

  ‘You’ll need to do a voice test,’ Annikki Sands said. ‘We all broadcast as well as write the programmes, so you will need a voice that is strong enough. I’ll organise that, and send the appointment date and time to you.’ She looked down at her notes and Kaisa confirmed that they had the correct address.

  When Kaisa was walking back to Holborn tube station, she realised she’d not even asked how many other applicants there were. The advert had given the salary, which was far more than she’d ever earned, twice what Rose had been able to pay her at Adam’s Apple. The start date, too, was stated in the newspaper – 3 February 1986 – though Annikki had hinted that they might have to move that forward. Kaisa cursed her nerves; it had taken all her concentration during the interview not to let her voice quiver, or her hands shake, but she should have been more inquisitive; she feared she might have come across as someone who didn’t care whether she got the job or not. That said, when she’d left, the man, Juha, had smiled at her and nodded as if to say that she’d done well. But then, he might have done the same to everyone they interviewed. Plus, she had only nodded when they’d asked if she was married to an Englishman. There had been no mention of their living arrangements, or what her husband’s profession was, so Kaisa didn’t volunteer the information.

  * * *

  The BBC letter offering her a job as a ‘Junior Reporter, World Service, Finnish Section’ arrived exactly two weeks after Kaisa had attended the interview at Bush House. It appeared that the voice test had just been a formality; they told her that her pronunciation needed to be worked on, that her ‘s’ was a little too soft, but that with training she could become better. Even the interview with a slim, carefully made-up lady from the Personnel Department, who told Kaisa she was a former air hostess with British Airways, hadn’t brought up Peter’s profession. When Kaisa had told the woman her address she hadn’t asked if she lived alone or with her husband. Kaisa decided she’d assumed they lived together, and Kaisa hadn’t volunteered any other information. She had spoken with Rose on the telephone the night before the interview, and she had been adamant that she was within her right to work in the UK.

  ‘Besides, once you’re there, even if the divorce comes through, they’ll have to get you a work permit, because by then I bet they’ll be counting on you, my dear,’ she’d said.

  Rose was staying with her uncle for an extra two days, in addition to the two weeks she’d taken off for Christmas and New Year. ‘I’ve not taken a long holiday like this for ages,’ she’d said on the phone. Rose had seemed very relaxed and Kaisa wondered if this was a long celebration of the engagement, because she kept postponing her return.

  As it was, the personnel manager, who, with her slim figure and blonde hair pulled into a chignon, had reminded Kaisa of the wife of one of Peter’s former captains (who had also worked as an air hostess for the national airline), hadn’t asked a thing about Peter, apart from his name.

  Thirty-Two

  On Kaisa’s first day, in early February, she found out that she’d been the only applicant with the relevant qualifications and a work permit. They had interviewed a couple of reporters from Finland but ‘their English language skills weren’t as good as yours,’ Annikki told her. ‘Besides, it’s easier with someone who already lives here in London. And your Swedish language knowledge will come in useful too,’ she added. Her face was still stern, but Kaisa could see a smile hovering at the corners of her eyes. Kaisa decided not to worry about her work permit, but reminded herself that she needed to let Peter know about her new status, just in case some eager civil servant somewhere in the great machinery of the Royal Navy and the British Broadcasting Corporation decided to check her credentials. She’d have to contact Peter, but she had no time to worry about that while Annikki showed her around her new workplace and introduced her to the new work colleagues.

  That same evening, after an exhausting day spent meeting the Finnish team and being told she’d start a course in radio broadcasting on 10th February, she decided to try to call Peter. She had no idea if he was still based in Plymouth, nor if he was away at sea. But she wanted to tell him the good news about the new job at the BBC. The magnitude of this hadn’t really hit Kaisa yet. She’d been so worried about the work permit, and then about her ability to do the job. Now she just needed to make sure Peter wouldn’t do anything, such as file for a divorce, for the next few months.

  Kaisa dialled the number for the Devonport wardroom. She was nervous; what would she say to him? How would she formulate what she needed to ask him? She was standing in the hallway of the house at Colville Terrace, and prayed that the slovenly boyfriend of her landlady wouldn’t suddenly decide he needed something from the kitchen. That had happened more and more often, but tonight the whole house seemed empty; keeping her fingers crossed, Kaisa listened to the rings on the other end of the line.

  ‘Hello, I wonder if I could speak with Lieutenant Peter Williams.
’

  The gruff voice at the other end said, ‘Who’s calling?’

  ‘It’s Kaisa Williams,’ Kaisa hesitated for a moment and added, ‘his wife.’

  ‘Just one moment, please,’ the man said. He betrayed no emotion, or recognition of the name. Perhaps Peter’s court martial and the events leading up to it had already been forgotten, Kaisa thought. Or perhaps this man was new and didn’t know Peter’s infamous history.

  Kaisa could hear the echo of steps, then a door being closed at the other end, and then more steps. The receiver was picked up.

  ‘Hello?’

  Hearing Peter’s voice took Kaisa’s breath away. She was reminded of all those times when they’d been apart, her still living in Finland and him in Britain, when phone calls had been so precious. And then when they were living in the married quarter in Portsmouth, and he’d been away. She remembered the delight she’d taken in listening to him say he missed her, and the relief in realising he was safe, that the submarine hadn’t sunk somewhere in the middle of the ocean, only to be reported missing weeks later. The horror of what the men onboard would have gone through would play on Kaisa’s mind when she couldn’t get to sleep. She always imagined the worst.

  ‘Hello,’ Peter said again. This time his voice displayed irritation.

  ‘Hi, it’s me,’ Kaisa said quickly. She didn’t want to lose him now. She held tightly onto the heavy black receiver.

  ‘Kaisa,’ Peter’s voice was warm. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m well, and you?’

  ‘Good.’ There was a brief silence. ‘We came back a few hours ago.’

  Kaisa could hear that Peter had had a beer (or two) and she smiled without thinking. The crew wouldn’t have had a drop to drink during all their weeks away, so sometimes just one beer could make them sound drunk. ‘Really?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’ Peter said.

  How could she have known, Kaisa thought. ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Listen, I have a bit of news: I’ve got a job with the BBC!’

  ‘Really,’ Peter said. ‘Congratulations.’

  But Kaisa could hear disappointment in his voice, and she suddenly felt annoyed. This is what it always came down to with Peter. He didn’t care what kind of job she had. All he wanted was to have sex with her, to have her at home when he came back from sea. She realised he must think she was calling to arrange a date. He thought nothing had changed; that she was desperate to see him again and to have him in her bed. But surely Kaisa had made it clear how she felt during their last conversation? Besides, the lack of letters over the months when they hadn’t seen each other must have told him it was over? Of course, Kaisa had thought about him. Each time she was with Ravi, she thought about Peter. But she forced herself to forget all about him, for the sake of her career. However, it was evident from his reaction now, that to him, her career didn’t matter.

  ‘I’m only letting you know so that you needn’t pay me any more money,’ she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. But she could hear the note of irritation in her voice. So what, she thought, serves him right.

  ‘Oh, right,’ Peter began, then stopped and said nothing more.

  ‘We also need to decide about the divorce,’ Kaisa continued. She was now so angry, she thought to hell with everything. She was the best candidate for the BBC job after all, and the others would have needed work permits anyway, so the BBC must be prepared to apply for one. Besides, now she had a contract, she was sure the BBC wouldn’t get rid of her that easily. She had skills that no one else had, so she was sure she’d get a work permit now. She didn’t need this selfish, arrogant, naval officer of an ex-husband anymore!

  Again Peter started to say something, but then the doorbell to the house rang. Kaisa listened for a moment, but there was no movement in the whole place. The doorbell rang again and she said, ‘Hold on a minute.’

  Kaisa placed the receiver on the small table, and went to open the door. She was glad of the distraction, to control her temper. How was it possible that Peter could make her so angry so quickly when she didn’t even live with him anymore, and hadn’t talked to him since the brief phone call after that stupid, stupid, loss of self-control she’d had in Plymouth?

  On the doorstep stood Ravi, holding a vast bunch of flowers in one hand, and in the other a bottle of champagne. He was grinning widely, showing his incredible white teeth. ‘I thought we should celebrate your brilliant new career!’ Ravi looked more handsome to Kaisa than he had for a long time. He was wearing a pair of smart trousers and a striped shirt under a double-breasted jacket with gold buttons. His pitch-black hair was just touching the collar of his shirt and his lips looked full and inviting. Kaisa smelled the flowers and in a loud voice said, ‘Thank you, darling, come in, I just need to finish this telephone call.’ She took hold of Ravi’s arm, and pulled him inside.

  Ravi stepped in and, looking puzzled, gave Kaisa a quick kiss on her lips. ‘Who is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘Oh, it’s no one important,’ Kaisa said, again loud enough for Peter to hear, and she picked up the receiver.

  ‘Sorry, I need to go. I just wanted to let you know about the money,’ Kaisa took a deep breath, and continued, ‘and the divorce. You can go ahead with it now.’

  ‘Right,’ Peter said. Kaisa could hear emotion in his voice now. Was it anger, or something else? She hesitated for a moment, but then thought, I’m glad I’ve upset him. Bloody man!

  ‘Good,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, good.’ Peter said.

  ‘Bye,’ Kaisa said and put down the receiver.

  Ravi was standing in the hall, looking uncomfortable. They didn’t often meet in the house, and if they did, they tried to sneak upstairs unnoticed. Kaisa’s landlady, or the unpleasant boyfriend, didn’t approve of Ravi. The landlady had once asked Kaisa, when Ravi had been waiting for her outside the house, what she was doing with a ‘Paki’. Surely Kaisa, a good-looking girl, even if she was foreign, could do better than that? At the time, Kaisa had been going through a bit of a crisis of conscience with Ravi and had decided to finish it with him, perhaps because it was only a week after she’d slept with Peter, or because she realised she didn’t love him and never would. They hadn’t yet had sex, and Kaisa knew that she would have to let it happen soon, so it was only fair to end it. But the landlady’s racism had made Kaisa defiant. She’d got drunk that evening and had invited Ravi to her bed. At the same time, Kaisa couldn’t afford to be thrown out of the bedsit, so they’d been careful not to be seen in the house together again.

  ‘Come on, let’s go upstairs and open this!’ Kaisa said. ‘The house is empty!’ she grinned, taking the flowers from him. She led him up the stairs and into her room. She didn’t have any proper champagne glasses and they had to drink it out of water tumblers.

  When they’d settled on the bed, sitting side by side, Kaisa began kissing Ravi, and undoing his buttons. Ravi put his hand on Kaisa’s fingers, stopping her midway. ‘Was that your husband on the phone?’

  Kaisa looked at Ravi’s dark eyes. ‘Yes, why?’

  Ravi stood up, and placing his glass on the small kitchen worktop opposite Kaisa’s bed, said, ‘Look, I like you a lot.’ He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin and gazed at Kaisa for a while. ‘As a matter of fact, I think I might be falling for you.’

  Kaisa sat on the bed, looking at her hands. She didn’t dare to look at Ravi.

  ‘But I cannot be part of a game you are playing with your husband.’

  Kaisa looked up, ‘What do you mean, a game?’

  Ravi came over to her, crouching opposite her, and took her hands in his. ‘Our relationship is not an easy one. Already we have to sneak around this place.’

  ‘But I don’t care about them!’ Kaisa looked at his sad eyes.

  ‘I know you don’t, and believe me, I don’t give a shit about people like that either. I meet them every day, so I’m used to it. But my community, they would be, and are, the same. I’m constantly fighting a b
attle against my mother.’ Ravi lifted Kaisa’s chin up and looked deep into her eyes. ‘She wants to find a suitable wife for me. She’s relentless.’ Ravi gave a small laugh. ‘So, what I’m saying is that if we were to get more serious, it will be difficult and we will need to be sure of our feelings for each other.’

  Kaisa nodded. She moved away from Ravi, and went to stand by the sink. She couldn’t face him.

  ‘And I’m not sure you are over Peter,’ Ravi said to her back.

  Tears began running down Kaisa’s face. The whole awfulness of the conversation with Peter just dawned on her, at the same time as the realisation that she was also losing Ravi. He stood up and put his arms round her. He rocked her back and forth for a while. Kaisa turned around in his arms, and put her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m getting make-up on your smart shirt,’ she said.

  ‘That’s alright.’

  They stood there for a moment, until Kaisa finished crying. Ravi let go, and gave Kaisa a peck on her wet cheek. ‘If you need any help with anything, call me, eh?’

  Kaisa nodded. When the door closed behind Ravi, Kaisa sat down on the bed, sipping the champagne. She sat like that for at least an hour, watching the lights of the houses opposite go out and the street quieten. The room grew darker, and Kaisa got up. She put the half-full bottle of champagne in her little fridge and found the pint glass Ravi had once stolen for her from the Horse and Coaches, when she’d told him she only owned a pair of tumblers to put his flowers in. Kaisa sighed. Ravi was right, she knew. She cared for him. But she still had feelings for Peter. What kind of feelings, apart from the anger and annoyance she felt for him, she didn’t know. But because she felt those emotions so strongly, it was obvious she needed more time to get over him. Had she been selfish to have sex with Ravi? Had she led him on? Not according to Rose, but then Rose wouldn’t have predicted that Ravi would leave her. Suddenly Kaisa laughed; she’d been dumped! This was how it felt. Served her right for everything she’d done to the men in her life; still, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. She pulled her legs up on the small comfy chair in her room, poured some more champagne, and settled down to watch an old American black-and-white film on TV.