The Faithful Heart

by Helena Halme

  There were a lot of people squeezed into the one room, talking and laughing loudly in small groups. As Peter and Kaisa approached each group, faces lit up in smiles. Peter kept pushing Kaisa forward, introducing her as ‘My wife, Kaisa.’ Her heart filled with pride each time she heard those words and greeted each person with a handshake, apart from a couple of men who seemed to know Peter well and pulled her towards them for a kiss on both cheeks. No one else kissed her hand like Duncan had done. As much as Kaisa tried to remember at least one other name, she couldn’t retain any of them. She couldn’t really follow the conversation very well, either. The loud music and everyone talking at the same time made it impossible for her to catch all the English words.

  Towards the end of the party Kaisa was sitting alone on the bay window ledge admiring the view below. She’d had several glasses of Pimm’s, and was glad of a reprieve from trying to make sense of people’s stories and jokes. She’d left Peter talking to a slightly older man about the Navy and his course. Jackie’s flat was on the second floor and overlooked a cobbled yard where flowers grew in pots and hanging baskets. In Finland people grew far fewer flowers than they did in Britain, and Kaisa still marvelled at a display such as the one below. There were pinks, blues and violets. Small white flowers overflowed the baskets, some of them nearly reaching the ground. Kaisa lazily wondered how such displays of loveliness could be achieved, and jumped when she heard a voice behind her, ‘Here you are!’ Jackie was holding another cigarette, but had taken off her high-heeled shoes. She looked very short in her stockinged feet. She came to sit next to Kaisa, and Kaisa noticed that Jackie was wearing a pink nail varnish that exactly matched her dress. ‘So what else do you do apart from being Mrs Williams?’

  Kaisa told her she was looking for a job. She said she had an economics degree from Finland, to which Jackie lifted her eyebrows and said, ‘I didn’t think a foreign qualification would be recognised here in England.’

  Kaisa didn’t know what to say. Jackie inhaled deeply on her cigarette, with her cold blue eyes fixed on Kaisa’s face. She removed the now pink-stained cigarette from her lips.

  ‘Oh,’ Kaisa eventually said and turned her face down to the floor. It hadn’t crossed Kaisa’s mind that her degree from Hanken would be ignored by prospective employers. Her mind whirled with questions, but she couldn’t think how to put them to Jackie without appearing stupid.

  ‘So how is it being married to Peter?’ Jackie asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Kaisa couldn’t think how else to reply. She didn’t want to tell this girl whom she hardly knew that she was the happiest woman alive. That after their four-year long-distance love affair, to be finally married to Peter was a dream come true. Why was Jackie so interested anyway? Perhaps she really was an old girlfriend of Peter’s?

  ‘Fine, you say!’ Jackie gave a little short laugh and tapped the end of her cigarette onto a small silver ashtray that she was holding in her other hand.

  It was gone three o’clock when they set off for home. But when Peter drove along the A3, Kaisa didn’t even notice the scenery. During the rest of the party, she had experienced a growing sense of betrayal. She felt as if she’d been cheated. To work so hard for a degree and then not get anything for it. Or not even that. Kaisa felt cheated that she hadn’t known about this; it hadn’t even occurred to her that the degree for which she had reluctantly studied would not be recognised in Britain. Why hadn’t Peter told her about this before? Why hadn’t he said anything during the long years they’d been apart because Kaisa wanted to finish her studies? She thought it important to get a degree before she got married, so that she could forge the worthwhile career she longed for. If that same degree was a worthless piece of paper after all, what had been the point?

  That evening Kaisa went to bed early. When she heard Peter come up the stairs, she wondered if she should ask him about her degree, but decided against it. She’d promised herself never to go to bed on a disagreement, something her mother had taught her not to do, so she decided to pretend everything was fine. When Peter leaned over to kiss her goodnight, Kaisa returned the kiss, but turned over quickly to stop Peter doing anything more. There was no way she could make love to Peter now, not until she had had it out with him.

  ‘What’s up?’ Peter said, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck.

  ‘I’m really tired, sorry darling.’

  Next day, in search of some facts, Kaisa phoned and asked about the validity of her foreign degree at the Job Centre in Portsmouth. When they eventually found someone who knew about foreign qualifications, the so-called expert just said, ‘It’s worth putting everything on your job application, dear, you never know what they’re looking for.’ In other words, Kaisa’s degree was more or less worthless. Four long years studying Political Science and Economics, a long summer course in book-keeping, years of trying to study for her exams, while pining for Peter and dreaming of living in England – were for nothing. So, when the ten o’clock news had finished and Peter turned the telly off, the frustration just flowed out of Kaisa. Why hadn’t he told her that there was no need to finish her degree if it wasn’t worth anything in England? Why did she have to find out from someone like Jackie, a stranger? Or perhaps she wasn’t such a stranger to Peter? Kaisa demanded to know, ‘Was she or, was she not, an old girlfriend?’

  The row went back and forth, with Kaisa accusing Peter of keeping her in the dark about her degree and not being straight about how well he knew Jackie, to Peter swearing he had no idea of the validity of her qualifications in the UK, and denying there had ever been any kind of relationship, apart from a friendly one, with Jackie. And why was Kaisa blaming Peter. ‘I’m no bloody expert on the British job market!’ he shouted. The pinnacle of the row occurred when Peter admitted that perhaps, ‘Jackie did once – a long time ago – have a bit of a crush on me.’ Kaisa stormed out of the room and locked herself in the toilet, crying loudly. It took Peter a full ten minutes to coax her out again.

  Of course, in the end they made up, and Peter said that he really hadn’t had any idea that Kaisa’s degree from Finland would be ‘worthless’ as she put it.

  ‘Are you sure Jackie knows what she’s talking about?’ Peter said.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kaisa was leaning on Peter. She felt silly for having worked herself up into such a state.

  Peter lifted Kaisa’s chin up with his thumb and forefinger. ‘You’re a clever woman. And what’s more you are very good-looking, funny and I love you very much. You will get a job, but you know there’s no rush. Let’s just enjoy our time together while I’m still at home?’

  * * *

  During that last week before Peter went away, Kaisa asked if they could get a sewing machine. She could run up new curtains for their married quarter, making it a little more homely. It was an expensive purchase, but Kaisa promised Peter they’d save money in the long run.

  ‘Alright then, Mrs Williams, let’s get you a sewing machine,’ Peter smiled and squeezed Kaisa close to himself. Kaisa was surprised when, at the Knight and Lee store on Palmerston Road, she knew quite a lot about the different models they were shown. Glancing at Peter, she saw how her knowledge impressed him, too.

  The following day Peter was again impressed when Kaisa made simple, light drapes for the lounge from cheap fabric she’d bought in town. She took down the awful net curtains in their bedroom and hung the new ones in place. ‘You should go into business making curtains!’ Peter said. Kaisa smiled; impressing Peter made her feel so wonderful. She was acting like a 1950s housewife again, but she couldn’t help herself. She promised herself that she’d start applying for proper jobs as soon as Peter went away. Kaisa sighed; they only had two more days together.

  Three

  ‘I should be back by September,’ Peter squeezed Kaisa’s body hard against himself. It was only the 8th of July, and he said he’d be away ‘for about eight weeks.’ The nuclear submarine, HMS Tempest, to which Peter had been assigned, was based in Scotland, and he was c
atching a flight up to Glasgow that morning. Even though Peter was now officially working up in Scotland, Kaisa would stay in the King’s Terrace married quarter, just as they had agreed. Kaisa was glad; it meant she could meet up with friends, and begin looking for jobs. Peter told Kaisa the submarine would undergo trials in Scotland for ‘about two weeks’ first, then be at sea for an undefined time. Kaisa knew better than to ask anything more. Peter’s standard, joking reply was: ‘If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.’

  ‘But don’t forget we’ll see each other in Liverpool.’

  The submarine was going on an official visit to Morecambe in mid-August, but that too seemed a long time away.

  Kaisa thought how much taller Peter always looked when he was about to leave her. They were standing in the hall, saying goodbye. It was early on a Sunday morning, only 5am, and Kaisa was in her nightie, while Peter wore his ribbed Navy jumper over his white uniform shirt. The night before, he’d packed his ‘Pusser’s grip’ – a Navy issue brown canvas holdall with his initials on the side – and was holding his white cap with its gold-embossed officer’s badge under his arm. His eyes looked dark and intense. Squeezing Kaisa tightly, he said, ‘When I’m with you nothing can hurt me.’ Kaisa knew he was nervous about meeting his new captain, and the crew, and she hugged him hard and said, ‘You’ll be fine.’ She was trying not to cry, but a single tear fell down her cheek.

  I’ll be home before you know it,’ Peter said and wiped Kaisa’s tear away with his thumb.

  Kaisa went back to bed and tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. She stretched herself across the bed and felt the empty space next to her. It was still warm from Peter’s body. She hugged his pillow, inhaling his scent. She already longed for his touch. Kaisa managed to sleep for a couple of hours and then woke up with a start to the loud screech of seagulls. As she got up and dressed, she thought how tired she felt. Listening to the horns of the ferries and ships (she couldn’t tell the difference, even though Peter had told her many times), she wondered how she was going to manage all the weeks without him.

  * * *

  Kaisa spent the next few days cleaning the flat top to bottom, and unpacked the last two boxes they’d brought over from Devonshire Road, where Peter and Kaisa had briefly stayed before they were married. The place was owned by Jeff’s parents and had been home for Jeff and Peter when they were both based in Pompey. She bought the Guardian newspaper and the Portsmouth Evening News and sent out ten applications for jobs. She got an appointment with an employment agency called Bayleys on Commercial Road and, after an interview with a friendly woman, felt more optimistic about her chances. The woman had even looked at her degree certificate and asked a few questions about the courses she’d taken. On the way back home she bumped into Jeff’s sister. Maggie was an odd sort of girl. A few years younger than Kaisa, she’d already been married and divorced from a sailor. She played at being much wiser and more experienced, yet when she spoke she sounded more like a teenager.

  ‘You on your own now, yeah?’ she said, chewing gum. She was wearing a short ra-ra skirt over a pair of leggings, and a ripped top, with her thin blonde hair up in a messy ponytail. She was very thin, and her skin was pale, almost translucent. She stood with one hand on her hip, while holding a cigarette in the other.

  ‘Yes, Peter is in Scotland and they’ll sail in a week or two.’

  ‘You miss him?’ Maggie delivered this question without displaying any emotion, neither in her thin voice, or in a change in her demeanour. She took a drag on her cigarette while gazing steadily at Kaisa.

  ‘Yeah, I miss him …’ Kaisa said.

  ‘Listen, I’m in a bit of a hurry now, but why don’t you come over to the pub tonight, yeah? I’m working there now and I think Jeff’s home later.’

  Kaisa thanked her and said she would go. It’d be good to get away from the flat and the TV. After Peter left she’d got into the habit of watching all the soaps, including the new Brookside, set in Liverpool. The actors’ accents were so strong that Kaisa treated it as an English-language lesson, and was glad if she got the whole of the plot at the end of the episode.

  Jeff gave Kaisa a big hug when she entered The Palmerston Arms in Old Portsmouth that evening. He’d been away for weeks, and she hadn’t seen him since the wedding in Finland.

  ‘How’s my favourite married woman?’ he joked, and Kaisa smiled. Having Jeff at home was a little like having Peter around, so she relaxed and told him about Peter’s new job in HMS Tempest.

  ‘I’m a skimmer, you know, so I don’t know a thing about subs.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Kaisa admitted and laughed.

  The Palmerston Arms was a small pub along the Old Portsmouth High Street, with a dark mahogany bar and a few round tables and stools scattered around the small space. In the corner, where Jeff and his friends liked to sit, there was a fish tank, and a corner sofa with a slightly larger, rectangular table. As with everything, The Palmerston Arms was just a walk away from Kaisa and Peter’s flat. It was a warm, beautiful evening, with just a slight sea breeze that had made Kaisa’s hair stick out in all directions during the short walk. She’d really need to have it cut, but hadn’t yet dared to use a local hairdresser.

  ‘Anyway, you’re looking good, Mrs Williams!’ Jeff grinned at her and Kaisa smiled back at him. She’d felt such relief at seeing him there – it was never easy to walk into a pub alone as a woman, even if the pub belonged to the parents of your husband’s best friend, and best man. Jeff looked exactly as before. He was more heavily built than Peter, and had thinner, light-brown hair that he constantly tried to keep in place by brushing it away from his face. He reminded Kaisa of a friendly bear, and she was very fond of him.

  ‘Hiya, Kaisa,’ Maggie waved from the bar, and Jeff’s much larger-framed, beer-smelling dad, the pub landlord, came over and nearly squeezed the life out of her. Kaisa tried to turn her head, but he planted a kiss straight on her mouth. His thick beard tickled Kaisa’s lips, and for a moment Kaisa relaxed in his fatherly embrace. Before she could make her way to the bar, where Maggie was pulling a pint, Jeff brought out a short, dark-haired girl and said, ‘Meet Catherine!’

  Not another girlfriend, Kaisa thought, giving Catherine a quick peck on her cheek. Jeff went to get their drinks and motioned towards the corner table. The pub was small, and everyone knew each other. As Kaisa and Catherine made their way past the bar, the other customers said hello. Kaisa couldn’t remember anyone’s names, so she just smiled and nodded to the familiar faces.

  When she got to Jeff’s mum, a grey-haired woman with rimless glasses and a pinny over her dress, Kaisa gave her a kiss on the cheek and asked how she was. ‘Can’t complain,’ she said. It was her responsibility to cook the bar meals in the pub, and she was often flustered. Kaisa could see she was glad to have Jeff back, because her eyes were following his every move. She now laughed at something Jeff said. He’d been to the Falklands, and even though the war was long won, and the danger over, everyone knew the Argentinians could mount another surprise attack. Jeff was now telling a long-winded tale about his trip to everyone at the bar. Kaisa couldn’t make out what it was about, nor did she understand the punchline, but she laughed at the end anyway, along with Catherine.

  It was a typical night in the pub. She and Peter had spent many evenings like this when they lived for a short while in Jeff’s house on Devonshire Road before their marriage. The laughter and drink, and the way Jeff and his dad entertained everyone with their stories, made Kaisa suddenly feel Peter’s absence more acutely. She realised how often, during their pub evenings, he had to explain stories to her, or translate the naval terms people used. Jeff did some of this for her now, but he was also looking after his new girlfriend, who had a bubbly, overflowing way of laughing at his jokes.

  As the night went on, Kaisa and Catherine struck up a conversation. Usually Jeff’s dates didn’t have anything to say to Kaisa, and Kaisa had nothing to say to them, but this girl had studied politics at Portsmouth Polytechni
c, and they began discussing the British electoral system, the subject of Kaisa’s theses back in Finland. She loved debating the subject.

  ‘Will you listen to these intellectuals?’ Jeff laughed when Kaisa and Catherine had got onto arguing about the merits of first-past-the-post as opposed to proportional representation. Catherine was a strong opponent of coalition government, but their discussion was far from hostile, and until Jeff made them stop by asking Kaisa about Peter, she enjoyed talking about something other than her job prospects or the Navy. She’d have to tell Peter about the new girlfriend when he phoned. As yet she’d not heard from him. She was disappointed he’d not called to say he had got up to Scotland alright, but she presumed he’d not had the time because of ‘the trials’, whatever they were. As usual with evenings at The Palmerston, there was a lock-in and they carried on drinking after closing time. Kaisa felt herself getting drunker and drunker, but didn’t care. She didn’t have a job to go to the next day, nor did she have an interview lined up. All she had was time, so why not use it to nurse a hangover?

  The next day Kaisa slept in until late in the morning. When she came down the stairs, she hoped there’d be a letter from Peter, but there were just a few fliers and that day’s edition of the Guardian on the mat. She’d not heard from Peter since she kissed him goodbye on the doorstep five days previously. She knew he would be busy, getting to grips with a new job and a new crew. He said he knew a couple of the other officers on the new submarine, but admitted that he was a little nervous about meeting the Captain, an older officer who’d been in charge of HMS Tempest for two years. But since they were still alongside in port (Kaisa presumed, based on what Peter had told her), and not at sea, surely he would have been able to get in touch? Of course, Peter might have contacted her the night before, when she was in the pub with Jeff and his new girlfriend. Although she was desperate to talk to Peter, a part of her felt a sense of triumph at not always being available to him. That is, if he did try to call.