by Helena Halme
That evening, Kaisa got a phone call from Jeff. She was very surprised to hear from him, because she knew he was in Northern Ireland.
‘You alright?’ she asked, immediately worried something bad had happened.
‘Peter at home?’
‘No, he’s still on patrol – they’re not due home until after Christmas and New Year.’
‘Right.’
Kaisa could hardly hear Jeff’s voice; the line was very bad and he sounded as though he was at the bottom of a well. ‘You alright?’ she asked again.
‘Listen, the thing is …’
‘What is it?’ Kaisa was now very worried. She knew this couldn’t be anything to do with Peter, but was it about her and Duncan? Had the rumours somehow reached Portsmouth, and so via his parents, or someone else, Jeff in Northern Ireland?
‘Susan’s broken off the engagement,’ Jeff’s voice was muffled. Was he crying? Jeff was devastated. He’d received a letter from Susan, telling him that it was over. He’d immediately telephoned his mum, because Susan had got into the habit of going to the pub almost every evening, just to spend time with Jeff’s family.
‘What did she say?’ Kaisa asked.
‘Nothing. Susan had just come in the night before last and given the ring to my mum, and told her that she’d written to me. But in the letter she said that …’ Jeff inhaled deeply, and continued, ‘that it’s her job.’
‘Oh,’ Kaisa didn’t know what to say.
‘They’ve refused her a promotion because of me.’
‘Oh, Jeff.’ What more could Kaisa say? Susan had made her choice, which was the opposite of the one Kaisa had made. But how could she explain to Jeff that he was worth less than a career at IDS?
When Jeff had finally got off the line, Kaisa began feeling angry with Susan. Surely she would have known how they felt about Navy wives at IDS? Surely she would have been told why she got the job instead of Kaisa, or was that really how it was?
Twenty-Eight
Three days before Christmas Kaisa had a phone call from her mother, asking her to come and spend Christmas with her in Helsinki. This was the second phone call from her in the last two weeks. They’d usually phone each other about once a month, if that, because of the expense. Kaisa said, again, that she didn’t have the money for the flights. ‘Look, Mum, even if I drove down to London from here, it would cost more money than we have to either fly or take the various ferries and trains back to Finland,’ she said. Her mother accepted the excuse begrudgingly, and then started crying.
‘Don’t, please, äiti.’ Kaisa pleaded.
‘Oh, it’s just that I miss you so very much, and with Christmas coming up …’
‘I know, Mum, but I can’t help it. We’ll have a long talk on Christmas Eve, yes?’
Her Mother didn’t reply, she was still sobbing down the phone and Kaisa guessed this wasn’t about her and Christmas. With all the recent phone calls there must be something else.
‘What’s really the matter?’ Kaisa said, trying to keep her voice from breaking.
‘Sirkka is moving to Lapland, and she’s not spending Christmas with me either,’ her mother said between sobs.
‘I didn’t know that,’ Kaisa said and tried hard to keep the chill out of her voice.
‘You don’t care, I can hear that,’ her mother said, her sobs now having subsided. She blew her noise loudly.
‘Mum, I just can’t afford the flights. What about your friends from work? Couldn’t you spend Christmas with them?’
‘Well, actually I am. Still, it would’ve been nice to have at least one of my daughters with me. Goodness knows what my friends will think.’
Now the truth was out, Kaisa thought. It’s always about what other people think. Or was she being too harsh? Kaisa decided that she should try to sympathise, she was her mother after all.
‘It’s hard, I know,’ she said, and continued, ‘but Peter and I were there in September, and we’ll come again soon, I promise.’ They chatted some more about her mother’s friends and what she was going to do for Christmas Eve, and Kaisa thought she was alright at the end of the call. As soon as she’d put the phone down Kaisa called Sirkka.
‘I’ve just been talking to Mum. She was crying about Christmas,’ Kaisa said as soon as she answered. Sirkka was living on a floor below their mother in the same block of flats in Töölö in Helsinki. It was a nice area, with a large park nearby, facing the sea.
‘Don’t take any notice, you know what she can be like,’ Sirkka said. She was mumbling down the phone.
‘Are you eating something?’
‘Yes, sorry. I’m just packing. Hold on a minute.’ Sirkka left the phone and Kaisa counted the minutes, or the money, this holding on was costing her. ‘I’m back,’ Sirkka eventually said.
‘So, Mum told me you’re moving to Lapland?’
‘Yeah, it’s a fantastic opportunity. You know I wanted to work up there for the skiing season and now the hotel in Ylläs, where I worked before, wants me to do the Christmas shift, and then there’s a chance of getting the restaurant manager’s job in the New Year. It’s just what I want.’
‘So you’re leaving Mum on her own?’
‘I told you not to take any notice of her. She’s not on her own; she’s got masses of friends …’
‘I mean for Christmas!’
Sirkka sighed, ‘Christmas is really only a couple of days out of the whole of the year. I don’t know why people get into such a state about it all.’
‘But Mother shouldn’t be on her own at Christmas.’ Kaisa said quietly.
Sirkka was silent for a moment. ‘Kaisa, this is a fantastic opportunity for me. You know how unhappy I’ve been living here in Helsinki, virtually under my mother’s roof, and in a job that I am under-qualified for. As for the people in Helsinki … well, you know what it’s like …’ Sirkka was again quiet for a while, and then continued. ‘If you’re worried about her, why don’t you come home? Why is it always me who has to hold her bloody hand?’
‘You know I can’t afford the flights; besides, Peter might be coming home right after the New Year. I haven’t seen him for nearly two months …’
Sirkka interrupted her, ‘So, you see, you put your life first, why shouldn’t I – for once?’
When Kaisa didn’t reply, Sirkka said, ‘I’ve got a train tonight and I haven’t packed yet, so I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know my address and phone number when I get there. OK?’
Kaisa put the phone down and thought she should have gone to Finland to be with her mother for Christmas. Perhaps the incident with Duncan wouldn’t have happened if she’d been busy planning her trip home. She had no idea Sirkka wasn’t going to be there and now it was too late. Still, she felt guilty about her mother too. As for her father, she hadn’t spoken with him since the wedding. She’d heard from Sirkka that he was slimming down and getting fit. That didn’t sound like her father at all, but for Kaisa all the hurt from the time she’d lived with him, and his insistence that her mother couldn’t attend the wedding if he paid for it, was fresh in her memory. Peter kept reminding Kaisa that, in spite of their argument, her father did come to the wedding, and that he gave them a large sum of money as a wedding present. ‘Which he didn’t need to do,’ Peter usually added.
‘Of course, he needed to give us a present after first agreeing to pay for the wedding, and then making my mother foot the bill!’ Kaisa would reply. Peter just shrugged his shoulders at that. He didn’t really understand; his family, with a mum and dad still married, and an older sister and brother, was normal compared to Kaisa’s close relations. Besides, the reason Kaisa couldn’t make up with her father wasn’t just because of the wedding; it was also about all the times, while she’d been a student at the Hanken and living under his roof, he’d let Kaisa down or been just plain nasty to her. Sirkka should try life with dad, Kaisa thought now. After that, the experience of staying in a flat that just happens to be in the same block as Mum’s, would be a piece of cake! At
least their mother didn’t get drunk all the time on Koskenkorva, or have terrible mood swings. In the two years Kaisa had lived with her father, she’d never known which man would come home – the fun, friendly dad from her early childhood, or the angry, drunken chauvinist, who’d sneer at everything she said. He’d remind Kaisa how much like her mother she was, almost spitting out the statement. Kaisa had heard from Sirkka that he was now living in a large new flat in Espoo with the girlfriend he’d met when Kaisa lived with him. She was a nice, artistic woman, but Kaisa pitied her. Why would anyone want to spend their life with her father? Kaisa had sent her father and the girlfriend a change-of-address card when they’d moved to Smuggler’s Way, but she’d had no reply. Perhaps the feeling between father and daughter was mutual.
* * *
On the morning of the 22nd of December Kaisa woke up to a snowy view out of her window. The little patch of garden in front of the house was covered in white and all the rooftops sloping down to the Gareloch wore a blanket of freshly fallen snow. The view reminded Kaisa of home, and she suddenly felt tearful. Don’t be silly, she thought, and she remembered that the car would need sorting out. Kaisa dressed quickly and found a pair of mittens. She dug out her old snow boots, which she’d bought in Rovaniemi in Finnish Lapland years ago and brought up to Scotland on Peter’s advice. Stepping into the unusually bright morning light, Kaisa used an empty music cassette case to scrape ice off the windscreen. A new neighbour, a man a few years older than Peter, wearing a long Navy issue flannel greatcoat, came out of his house. The golden stripes on his lapels and shoulders glinted brightly. Kaisa had seen the family move in a few days previously. She’d said hello to the wife, as she’d got into the car with her children one morning, just as Kaisa was leaving for her daily swim. The couple lived one door down from Kaisa and had children of various ages. The man began brushing snow away from the top of his own car, a Volvo Estate, with an un-gloved hand and, glancing towards Kaisa, asked if she needed help, or a lift anywhere. ‘The roads will be treacherous, so if you don’t have to go out, I’d stay at home today,’ he shouted to Kaisa from the top of his car.
‘I’m fine,’ Kaisa said, ‘I’m just going to the base for a swim and then over to a friend’s house.’ Kaisa looked at the man’s hands, now red with the cold, and added,
‘You should wear gloves to do that.’
The man, too, glanced at his hands and said, ‘You may be right!’
They carried on clearing their respective cars, and Kaisa noticed that every now and then the man’s eyes moved towards Kaisa’s snow boots and at her waterproof skiing mittens. Kaisa was making a much better job of dealing with the snow and ice than he was.
‘You’ve done that before,’ the man said, smiling. When he’d cleared half of his car, he came over to Kaisa and said, ‘I’m Max.’
Kaisa introduced herself, too, and Max said, ‘I know who you are. I met Peter a few months ago: you’re the Scandinavian wife.’ With his cold fingers he took hold of Kaisa’s bare hand and held it for a long time. His gaze was direct and his lips were curled up in a half-smile. He was very blond. ‘My grandmother was Swedish, but I’m afraid I don’t speak any of your language.’
Kaisa wanted to tell him that: a) She wasn’t Scandinavian but Nordic, and b) Finnish and Swedish were not one language; that in fact they couldn’t be further apart, linguistically speaking. But she bit her lip and looked down at her boots.
‘You also know Duncan Lofthouse, don’t you?’ Max said, still holding Kaisa.
Kaisa was too shocked to reply, but pulled her hand from his grip.
‘Anyway,’ Max said, rubbing his red hands together, ‘I think we should drive down to the base in convoy, so that if the hill hasn’t been sanded and salted, you’ll still have the opportunity to turn back.’
‘OK,’ Kaisa said. At the same time as wondering what it was about these Englishmen that made them act so chivalrously towards women, her mind was filled with dread. The way Max had held onto her hand, and the way he’d looked at her, made Kaisa fear he knew something. But why would Duncan have told him anything? Or was he just guessing, enjoying talking to the woman at the centre of the rumours? Was there something about Duncan that made the rumours ring true? Had he done this before?
Sometimes the paternal concerns naval officers showed towards their friends’ or colleagues’ wives made Kaisa more angry than flattered. Why did all the men assume Kaisa was incapable of looking after herself? Or was she just overreacting again, like Peter said, or just an ungrateful cow, as Pammy and Kaisa liked to joke. And was this chivalry only found in the men in the Navy, or were all Englishmen the same? But like a good little woman, Kaisa did indeed follow the more knowledgeable man down the road and made it to the base, safely under his wing. In truth, she felt she had no choice. During the short drive Kaisa decided she’d ring Duncan that same evening, even though that was the last thing she wanted to do. But she had to know who Duncan had been talking to, and what he’d said, before Peter came home.
By the next day, the snow was gone. It had lasted for only half a day and, by the afternoon, when the light was fading, the rain had cleared it from all but the most persistent little areas in the corners of the houses on Smuggler’s Way. After her usual morning swim, she made a very short visit to see Lyn, who was just as delighted about the snow as Kaisa.
‘How long have you got to go until the baby’s due?’ Kaisa asked.
‘I’m really not sure of the dates, but I think it should be early January.’ Kaisa wanted to ask about the father, and to suggest that she should go to an antenatal clinic in Helensburgh, but she knew Lyn would just change the subject on both scores.
* * *
Later, when she got to Pammy’s, she talked about the snow in Finland, about how it made everything look so much softer and brighter and how it even lit up the landscape at night. They also discussed Christmas, and Kaisa proposed that they should spend it together. She offered to make a Finnish Christmas meal for Christmas Eve. Pammy thought it was a brilliant idea, and even though she couldn’t do much, she insisted that she’d cook the turkey. ‘It’ll be exactly two weeks on the 24th, and I’m getting stronger by the day,’ she said, and she squeezed Kaisa’s hand. They’d become such close friends during the past two weeks. Although Kaisa wouldn’t dream of saying so to Pammy, for Kaisa the terrible thing that happened had brought something good with it: their friendship.
Pammy insisted she should go to Helensburgh with Kaisa and so they drove to the shops together. They managed to get all the vegetables for Pammy’s meal, and Kaisa got a swede and a few carrots for the Finnish vegetable bakes. They even found rollmops for the herring course and some small pickled cucumbers and cooked beetroot.
At the butchers, Pammy bought a small turkey, and Kaisa a small piece of cooked ham for the meal on Christmas Eve. She’d also decided to make Karelian stew, for which she bought lambs’ kidneys and diced pork.
Pammy said they should go to the off-licence and Kaisa was surprised to find Finlandia vodka there. Pammy bought a bottle of champagne, which was hugely expensive, for Christmas morning. They also got a good bottle of red and one of white wine. They giggled like two teenagers when they looked at all the booze and food bought for just the two of them. ‘We’ll be fat as pigs and drunk as skunks when the boys come home,’ Pammy said. Kaisa looked at her. Even though Pammy was shivering in the chill wind, which sent their hair flying in all directions, her cheeks had a red tinge to them and her eyes were clear and had a spark to them, which Kaisa hadn’t seen since they’d driven to Glasgow together weeks ago.
When Kaisa got home from Pammy’s, she plucked up enough courage to at last phone Duncan.
‘Hello,’ he said almost immediately after Kaisa had dialled the last digit.
Kaisa was so taken aback that he was at home in London, that she couldn’t speak for a moment.
‘Hello,’ Duncan said again. Now he sounded a bit annoyed. ‘Who is it?’ Kaisa heard a woman’s voice in t
he background. Kaisa immediately put down the receiver.
Twenty-Nine
After much discussion with Pammy they’d decided that, since Kaisa’s dishes for the Finnish Christmas Eve could all be pre-prepared, she would cook them the night before Christmas Eve, then go over on the 24th and stay for two nights at Pammy’s house. So at least Kaisa had lots to do to keep her mind occupied and away from Duncan. While she listened to Radio One, which seemed to play the Band Aid song, ‘Do they Know It’s Christmas?’ continuously, Kaisa got the Karelian stew ready for the oven, prepared the Finnish beetroot rosolli salad and the vegetable bakes. As she chopped, grated and mixed the vegetables, Kaisa tried to keep thoughts of Duncan out of her mind, but with no luck. She wondered how many people he’d recounted the events of that stupid, drunken night to. And why would he do that? Kaisa didn’t understand, and she knew she had to talk to him. As she cooked, she decided to have a glass of wine, but only found an old bottle of red that she and Peter had received as a housewarming present from Pammy and Nigel. Peter had said it was expensive, so Kaisa decided to leave the bottle and make herself a gin and tonic instead. There was no ice, and the tonic was flat, but she emptied the glass quickly, drinking it as if it was medicine. The alcohol only hit her after she’d finished the second tumbler. Taking the third drink with her, Kaisa went over to the telephone in the hall and dialled Duncan’s number again. She was alarmed when she noticed it was past ten o’clock, but the ringing had already begun at the other end and, taking a sip out of the glass, Kaisa sat down on the chair and waited.
‘Hello?’ This time Duncan’s voice sounded drowsy, and questioning.
‘Hi, it’s me … Kaisa.’
After a short while, Duncan replied crisply, ‘What a lovely surprise!’
Kaisa could almost hear him straighten himself up. ‘How are you?’ he asked before she could say anything.