The Good Heart

by Helena Halme

  Thirty-Three

  Peter put the phone down and stood gazing at the door to the wardroom for a moment. Then he turned back to the phone and dialled a number. ‘Are you doing anything this weekend?’

  Jackie shrieked. ‘You’re back! No, what are you planning?’

  Peter made a date to go up to London on Friday evening. Jackie’s delight at the other end of the phone was palpable; Peter almost felt embarrassed on her behalf.

  Peter hadn’t seen Jackie since Kaisa’s visit to Plymouth. They had sailed a few days later, and had not got back until just before Christmas. The next trip had come as a surprise; they’d sailed immediately after Peter got back to Plymouth after the New Year. Jackie had written to Peter, and he’d even managed to reply, but he’d kept his letters cool on purpose. He didn’t want a repetition of the discussion – or rather argument – about his divorce and the possibility of marrying Jackie. Peter shook his head; she must be completely mad to think he would enter headlong into another serious relationship like that. ‘Women!’ he thought a few days later as he drove along the motorway towards London. He decided that if Jackie started that kind of talk again, this would be the last time he’d see her.

  But when Jackie opened the door to her flat in Chelsea, and flung herself around his neck, he regretted his decision to drive all the way up to London to see her. He felt bad, because he knew he was taking all his anger for Kaisa, all his jealousy, out on Jackie. He was using her.

  ‘Darling Peter, I knew you’d come around!’ Jackie cooed.

  ‘Look, this was a mistake,’ Peter said, forcing Jackie’s hands from his neck. He was holding onto her wrists, and realised too late that he was squeezing them a lot harder than he’d intended.

  ‘Kinky!’ Jackie laughed, ‘You want to tie me up?’ she said and wriggled her bum. She was wearing just a thin dress and high-heeled shoes. It was a cold evening, and he could see her hard nipples through the gathered material of the dress. Peter could guess what, if anything, was underneath, and felt himself harden. ‘Come in!’ Jackie said and pulled him inside.

  Why the hell not, Peter thought, but afterwards when they were lying on Jackie’s satin sheets, smoking cigarettes, Peter said, ‘Look, we can’t do this anymore.’

  ‘What?’ Jackie sat up in bed, revealing her full, naked breasts.

  Peter sighed, ‘Sorry, Jackie, but I …’

  ‘Shh,’ Jackie said and kissed Peter. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to mention the ‘M’ word,’ she gave Peter a grin, ‘or the ‘D’ word for that matter. Let’s just have fun, eh?’

  ‘OK,’ Peter said, but he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it with Jackie. However, if she didn’t want to spell it out, if she said she wanted just to have fun, that meant no ties, right? But this woman scared him and Peter resolved that this was the last weekend he would spend with her.

  On Sunday, when it was time for Peter to return to Plymouth, he told Jackie at the door, ‘I’m sorry, but this is it.’

  Jackie’s face fell, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m not going to be back.’

  Jackie stared at Peter. She tried to pull her mouth up into a smile, but managed just a lopsided grin. Peter shifted his weight from one foot to another. He wanted to be away, but he also wanted to make sure Jackie was clear on his decision. Her father was an Admiral after all, and goodness knew what weight he still carried in the Navy.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I just can’t.’ He took Jackie’s hand in his. ‘It’s my career, and who knows what my next appointment is going to be.’

  ‘But I do!’ Jackie said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘But if you don’t want me …’

  Peter gazed down at Jackie. She was standing in her stockinged feet, shivering inside her dressing gown. Was she bluffing? ‘Have you done something, organised something to do with my career?’

  ‘Oh, Peter,’ Jackie came and put her hands around his waist. ‘I just asked Daddy if there was any chance you might get a job nearer London, you know a shore job for a change, and he said he’d see what he could do.’

  * * *

  Peter drove back to Plymouth with his head whirling with different ideas. A shore job in London would change everything. But, of course, nothing was certain yet; Jackie’s dad could be bluffing; why would he want his daughter anywhere near Peter? Perhaps once upon a time, but not now when his career was doing a nose dive. ‘A submariner in a nose dive is never a good thing,’

  * * *

  Peter thought and grinned at his own joke. All the same, if he was given this fantastic opportunity to be ashore for a while, he’d make use of it. Poor Jackie, she’d well and truly shot herself in the foot this time.

  Thirty-Four

  When she got home to her bedsit, there was a cream-coloured letter waiting for Kaisa. Even before she turned the envelope in her hands, she guessed who it was from. She could recognise Peter’s handwriting in a darkened room by touch alone, she was sure of it. She smelled the envelope before opening it, but there was no hint of his coconut aftershave. It wasn’t what he normally did, anyway, it was the other way around; Kaisa was the one who was supposed to drown her correspondence in perfume.

  * * *

  Dear Kaisa,

  I hope you are well, and still living in the same address in London and that this letter reaches you.

  I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me, but after so many weeks at sea, I felt I should at least let you know I’m back in port and not likely to go away again soon. And I have some news.

  I am visiting my family in Wiltshire at the moment, and this is one of the reasons I wanted to write. I thought you’d like to know that Nancy and Nigel have had two little babies, twins, Oliver and Beth. They’re now three months old, and very beautiful, although the boy, Oliver, cries a lot, especially at night. Nancy is very well too, as is Nigel. My mum and dad send their regards, and wish you well.

  Love,

  Peter x

  * * *

  Kaisa reread the letter three times, standing in the hall. She was rooted to the spot, mulling over what Peter’s words might mean. The tone of the letter was like old times; he’d even put an x after his name. Suddenly a door opened and Mrs Carter peered at her.

  ‘Everything alright?’

  Her landlady was wearing a faded housecoat and had rollers in her artificially bleached hair. She looked annoyed.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I just got a letter and …’

  ‘The hall’s not for lounging in,’ Mrs Carter said.

  ‘Who is it?’ Kaisa heard Colin’s shout from inside the room.

  ‘No one,’ Mrs Carter said and banged the door shut. Kaisa put the letter back into the envelope and fled upstairs. Kaisa’s landlady had been particularly unfriendly to her in the past few weeks. She’d told Kaisa that she was going to marry the brute Colin, who’d been staying there ever since Kaisa moved in. He didn’t seem to get dressed, and was always wearing his long johns, or boxer shorts in summer, whenever Kaisa saw him in the stairwell. Mrs Carter had told her that they were going to be making changes to the house. ‘Colin thinks we should turn this place into luxury flats,’ she’d said. There was no timetable for this, of course, and Kaisa doubted the two of them would ever get round to it, but it seemed obvious they wanted her out. In any case, Kaisa didn’t want to rock the boat by making a nuisance of herself and give Mrs Carter and the horrible boyfriend any cause to ask her to leave sooner than they were planning. Although, with her new BBC job, she’d be able to rent a whole flat, Kaisa didn’t want to count her chickens. Not yet.

  Thinking about her living arrangements calmed Kaisa and she could now go back to wondering what the letter meant. She looked at the envelope. It was dated more than a month ago, 2nd January 1986. Why had it taken so long to reach her? And why had Peter written to her in the first place? Before he went away in November, she thought they’d made it clear to each other that they had no future together. Perhaps he had suddenly felt nostalgic for her, and
the happy times they’d had in his parents’ house in Wiltshire. Kaisa looked at the postmark on the envelope, it had ‘BFPO Ships’ on it, which meant he’d sent it while away at sea, or from the wardroom before he went away. Still, that meant it had taken a month to reach her. Another thought entered her mind. Because she’d had no communication from Peter, she’d assumed he was away at sea for Christmas. Although she’d not wanted to spend the holiday with Peter, in her desperation during the days leading up to the holidays, when she was facing a long weekend alone in the bedsit, she might have considered meeting up with him if she’d known he was ashore.

  Kaisa looked at Peter’s letter again. She thought about those mysterious words, ‘not likely to go away again soon’. What did they mean? Kaisa’s heart skipped a beat when she thought the unthinkable. No, that could not be what he meant? Peter would never even think about leaving the Navy – or would he?

  Then there were the babies, twins! Kaisa wondered if the gene ran in Nigel’s family. She’d certainly never heard of any twins in the Williams family. Finally, the mention of Peter’s parents made her shiver. Even after all these months, and after everything she’d done, the life she’d forged for herself in London (with the help of Rose, of course), she still feared seeing Peter’s parents the most. Of course, there was no chance she’d suddenly bump into them in Terroni’s in Farringdon, or at the BBC in Aldwych, or on the street in Notting Hill. Still, just the thought of facing them after what she had done to their son made her palms damp. No, she would never be able to see his mother or father ever again.

  Kaisa put the letter away and went to make herself a cup of coffee. While she sipped it, she thought how nice it would be to see Nancy and the twins. Then she imagined herself holding hands with Peter, looking down at two babies in their separate cots. There was no stopping her mind now. She immediately imagined herself in Peter’s arms, kissing his lips, held firmly in his embrace, running her fingers through his thick black hair. ‘Stop,’ she told herself. ‘Stop. That’ll never happen, so just stop it now.’ But she couldn’t help herself, and she reread Peter’s letter. She realised the sentence about not going away soon could mean anything. It could be that the submarine was in refit, that he’d joined another submarine that was being built, or that he was on a lengthy course in Portsmouth, or even London. The most unlikely alternative, that he’d decided to leave the Navy, was ludicrous. It wasn’t even worth thinking about.

  * * *

  The rest of her first week at the BBC, Kaisa existed in a haze of learning new things and meeting new people. She’d even been invited to the pub on Friday night, and she’d got to know the other Finns who worked at Bush House. She realised that the work was going to be hard, because it involved a lot of translation. News stories from the main bulletins at the BBC needed to be translated quickly into Finnish, edited into a suitably short bulletin, and broadcast, often on the same day. Her Finnish language skills had suffered during her time in the UK, but Juha, who had been assigned as her supervisor, told Kaisa she’d soon learn the ropes.

  ‘There are people working here who’ve lived in England for ten, twenty years. It was much harder for them to relearn Finnish. You’ll be fine,’ he said in his understated way as they were queuing up for food in the canteen.

  On Saturday evening, after her first weekend duty at the BBC, Kaisa sat down and wrote a letter to Peter. She’d learned that they would work four days on and then have four days off, but that would include any day of the week. Bank holidays were treated as any other day of the week. ‘But we have Christmas off,’ Juha had told her. She’d been to the pub with Juha after they’d completed that day’s short weekend bulletin (Kaisa helped, but Juha did most of the work and read out the news in Finnish). There they’d met a couple of male reporters from Italy who’d been impressed by the little Italian Kaisa had learned at Terroni’s. They also knew the café, and Mama Terroni, and said they recognised Kaisa from their visits there. It felt strange to have her different lives collide, but no one seemed to think it odd that a woman with her qualifications should have worked as a waitress for a time. London was truly different, Kaisa thought, and she smiled at the handsome Italians.

  * * *

  Dear Peter,

  When we spoke I didn’t get to say how happy I am for Nancy and Nigel. (I only got your letter last week.) They must be delighted with the new additions to their family, as must you and your parents be. And you are now an uncle! Please send my congratulations to Nancy and Nigel.

  I’m sorry our conversation on Wednesday was cut short, it is difficult to talk when living in somebody else’s house. This bedsit living is a bit like the wardroom, I’m sure. You can never be alone on the telephone without someone listening in.

  The reason I phoned, was that I wanted to tell you that you can go ahead with the divorce. As you, I am sure, understand, my issue has been with a work permit. I found out some time ago that if you divorced me, as a foreign subject I wouldn’t be allowed to stay in the UK. Now, however, with my new job at the BBC, I think I might be able to get a work permit after all. Also, as I said on the telephone, you don’t need to support me financially any more. So you can be rid of me at last.

  Best,

  Kaisa

  * * *

  Kaisa reread what she had written and sighed. She’d decided not to put an ‘x’ for a kiss at the end of her name. That decision had taken at least ten minutes. She thought back to that crazy night in Plymouth and how wonderful it had felt to once again be held in Peter’s arms. And the act of sex, how wonderful it had been, how good it had felt with Peter. She shivered when she thought about it now. She couldn’t help it, but she longed for his touch, for the taste of his lips. But it could, would, never work, so Kaisa folded the paper, put it inside an envelope and, licking the glue, sealed it. She now had four days off, and on Monday she resolved to go and look for a flat of her own. Then she could give notice to her landlady and be able to have a bit of privacy at last. Perhaps then she could meet someone new.

  Thirty-Five

  A week and a bit later, after Kaisa had done two four-hour shifts at the BBC, and had started her formal BBC journalism course, held in the top floor conference rooms at Bush House, she was getting ready to go out. She’d had to pull out of the course at the School of Journalism, but the lady in the personnel department had told Kaisa that BBC training was more prestigious. ‘This will stand you in good stead worldwide,’ she’d said smiling. Kaisa had been sad not to finish her course in Maida Vale, but the tutor had given her a letter, explaining to any prospective employer why she had dropped out. ‘A job at the BBC!’ he’d said. ‘That’s a job for life! Well done!’

  Some of the other students had looked at her differently when they heard her news. Kaisa hadn’t told them that she’d been the only proper applicant, or at least the only one with relevant education, experience, and language skills living in the UK.

  Not working at Terroni’s and dropping out of the course meant that she saw less of Rose, and so they’d decided to meet up on the Monday evening after her second four-day shift at the BBC. On the phone, Rose had told her that she’d accepted Roger’s offer of marriage, and Kaisa had congratulated her. Rose had invited Kaisa to an engagement party at Roger’s place in a couple of weeks’ time. Kaisa hadn’t been to the Coach and Horses since Ravi had broken up with her, and sitting on the tube on her way to Farringdon, she wondered if he’d be there. When she dug into her handbag to reapply her lip gloss, she noticed at the bottom of the bag the unsent letter to Peter. She’d been meaning to send it every day, but hadn’t had time even to buy a stamp. She felt the thin envelope in her hands, and wondered if she should rip it up, when the train pulled into Farringdon.

  The Coach and Horses wasn’t full on a Monday evening in late February, and Kaisa quickly realised that she was about fifteen minutes early. The first person she set eyes on was Ravi. He was talking to a man, whom Kaisa recognised as one of his friends from the Observer. It was too late for Kais
a to back away – they had both seen her, and Ravi’s friend had even waved. Kaisa took a deep intake of breath and walked towards the two men.

  Ravi gave her a kiss on her cheek, and asked if she wanted a drink. Kaisa looked around; there was no sign of Rose.

  ‘OK, she said, I’ll have a glass of white wine.’

  She suddenly thought Ravi must be thinking she was here to look for him. ‘I’m meeting Rose later,’ she said as he handed her the drink.

  ‘Oh, OK.’ Ravi said. Exchanging some silent message, with Ravi, his friend excused himself to Kaisa, saying he needed to read through something, and went to sit at a table in the corner of the pub. With his head bent, he started shifting through a pile of papers. Both Kaisa and Ravi looked at him for a while. Kaisa wished Rose would turn up soon; she didn’t know what to say to Ravi.

  ‘How have you been?’ Ravi looked at Kaisa, his black eyes full of emotion.

  ‘Good, the new job is tiring, but I like it there.’ Kaisa moved her eyes away from his; she didn’t want to sink into those deep pools of liquid black.

  ‘Good, good,’ Ravi said.

  They stood quietly for a moment, sipping their drinks. Kaisa thought what a good-looking man Ravi was, and wondered if he’d succumbed to seeing any of the girls his mother had suggested for him. But those dark eyes, and the floppy black hair, and his muscular build didn’t have any effect on her anymore. She was now glad he’d broken it off; he’d been right, she had no romantic feelings for him.