The True Heart

by Helena Halme

  Toni always flirted with Kaisa, even though she knew he loved his petite, dark-haired wife very much. Adriana was often serving behind the counter and saw Toni’s behaviour, but she just smiled and laughed at his silliness. Now Kaisa’s eyes searched for Adriana. When she saw her leaning over the counter, with a tea-towel in her hand, Kaisa smiled at her, shrugged her shoulders, and released her hands from Toni’s grip. ‘Men!’ she shouted across the little café.

  When at last Toni left them with menus, Ravi leaned across to Kaisa and said, ‘So that’s why I have the pleasure of your company today?’

  Kaisa felt immediately guilty. She looked down at the mock-leather covered menu, fearing her face would betray what she felt.

  Over the last few years, Ravi had shown himself to be a very good friend to Kaisa. They met up perhaps once a month, when Kaisa wasn’t working weekends and Peter was away at sea. This lunch date was out of the blue, because Kaisa hadn’t planned on being on her own this Saturday.

  Ravi worked as a lawyer for one of the big banks in the City and lived a typical London bachelor life. He worked and played hard, but always managed to meet up with Kaisa when she got in touch. She knew she was relying too much on Ravi, and she also knew it was unfair on him. How would she be able to tell him about Duncan? And the virus that Ravi, too, might be carrying.

  ‘Did you have plans?’ Kaisa shot a quick glance at those dark pools of eyes, fearing they might have a stern look to them.

  Instead, however, the corners of Ravi’s lips lifted up and turned into a full smile, revealing a perfect set of white teeth, ‘Yes, I had to cancel a trip to Birmingham to meet another bridal candidate my mother had lined up. So you saved me!’

  ‘She’s still trying then.’ Kaisa also smiled, and placed her hand on top of Ravi’s.

  For the briefest of moments Ravi gazed at Kaisa’s fingers, then placed his own over them, covering Kaisa’s hand with his, ‘You’re cold,’ he said, looking up at Kaisa.

  Quickly Kaisa pulled her hand away and began discussing the menu. While they waited for the food, Kaisa tried to forget about the lost baby and the virus hanging over her. She’d telephoned the GP that morning, and got an appointment for Monday. She’d decided to take the test as soon as possible.

  ‘What’s up?’ Ravi asked after Toni had brought them coffee and they’d both ordered an Italian salad.

  Kaisa looked up at Ravi’s concerned expression, his dark eyes filled with kindness. Ravi took hold of Kaisa’s hands, which were hugging her cup of coffee on the red-and-white checked cloth. ‘Is it what I think it is?’

  Kaisa nodded, lowering her eyes. Tears were welling up inside her and she couldn’t look at Ravi any longer.

  After their lunch, the sun came out and Ravi and Kaisa decided to walk down to Covent Garden. When she saw a blue dress in the window of Wallis, Ravi pulled her into the shop and convinced her to try it on.

  ‘That shade brings out the beautiful colour of your eyes,’ Ravi had said and hugged Kaisa.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been shopping with Ravi; he was unusually good at picking clothes for her. So unlike Peter, who would soon get bored and tell her he liked everything she tried. She didn’t tell Peter about Ravi’s talents in that department, though. In fact Peter only knew about half of the times she spent with Ravi. There was nothing but friendship in their relationship, so her conscience was clear.

  During the past few years when Kaisa was living in London and Peter was stationed somewhere on the south coast, or in Scotland, as he was at the moment, Ravi had become her closest confidant. He knew all about the babies she kept losing, about how much she constantly missed Peter, and he never tried anything on with her. That showed what a gentleman he was. He’d been educated at Cambridge, of course, and came across as a posh boy, with his Sloaney accent, but Kaisa knew that was no guarantee of good behaviour. Kaisa shuddered when she though about Duncan, a man who had pretended to be her friend, who had been to Dartmouth Naval College with Peter and been a so-called mate of his, yet had still pursued her. Ravi was nothing like that.

  At first, when Kaisa had bumped into Ravi again, in a pub where she was having a drink with her old boss, Rose, she had been apprehensive. Rose, who had been an excellent friend and role model for her during her first years in London, when Peter and Kaisa had been separated and on the brink of a divorce, had moved to the country after her marriage, and was rarely up in town. After Rose had left, Kaisa missed their weekly lunches and felt lonely. When Ravi had telephoned to see how she was, she had agreed to meet him. The first time they met after all that had happened between them, Ravi had gazed at Kaisa with his dark brown eyes and said, ‘The reason I wanted to see you is to tell you how happy I am that Peter and you are still together.’

  ‘Oh,’ Kaisa had said and looked down at her cup.

  ‘I want you to know that I like you very much.’ Ravi hesitated for a moment and added, ‘as a friend.’

  Kaisa had been so taken aback that she hadn’t been able to say anything in reply.

  Ravi had reached out his hand and touched Kaisa’s fingers. ‘Is that OK?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I want to be friends too!’ Kaisa had finally exclaimed and they had broken into wide smiles. Kaisa wanted to get up, reach across the table and hug Ravi, but she hadn’t dared on that occasion.

  That had been four years ago now, and after that first coffee, Ravi and Kaisa been meeting at least once a month, sometimes more often. He also came to the house in Chepstow Place for dinner when Peter was at home.

  The three of them had got on so well, that on one drunken night they’d decided to go on holiday together. The week in a gite in the South of France had turned out to be a glorious idea. During the sultry evenings, when they’d cooked Indian spiced meats on the barbecue (to Ravi’s family recipe), and drank copious amounts of rosé, Ravi had told Peter and Kaisa about his frustrations with his overbearing mother, who was constantly pressurising him to get married. Each time he visited his family up in Birmingham, she would spring suitable girls on him.

  ‘I don’t want to get married,’ he said, holding a tumbler of red wine in his long, shapely fingers. ‘Least of all to a nice Indian virgin,’ he said, and they’d all laughed.

  ‘I completely understand,’ Peter had said seriously, adding with a grin, ‘Not that an Indian virgin wouldn’t be tempting …’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Kaisa kicked his shin under the table.

  ‘Ouch, that hurt,’ Peter laughed. ‘What I meant to say was, had I not met Kaisa, I wouldn’t have wanted to marry either.’ Peter took hold of Kaisa’s hand and kissed the palm. They were sitting next to each other on a bench outside the beautiful old farm building. Ravi was facing them from the other side of the table, which was covered with the debris of the meal they’d just consumed.

  They were all quiet for a moment, listening to the loud chirping of the crickets disturbing the otherwise peaceful night. Ravi had shifted on his seat, and said, ‘I am a confirmed bachelor, me. And now I’m going to do the dishes. I think it’s my turn.’

  After that holiday, they’d taken a few days each year to go somewhere in France together. Kaisa and Peter had grown very fond of their Indian bachelor friend. Still, Kaisa was careful not to rouse any jealousy in Peter; after what had happened early on in their marriage, she knew he must always be looking over his shoulder. However much he told her that he never thought about Duncan, or their brief affair, she knew she needed to be careful.

  Five

  There was bad news. The navigation system on the sub was playing up and Peter couldn’t travel down South until it was done. Peter’s Captain had been standing next to him when they were doing the handover to the Board Crew and had told him the extent of the problem. Peter’s first thought was how he was going to tell Kaisa that he needed to stay on in Faslane for a few days more to make sure the glitches in the sub’s navigation system were sorted.

  But when Peter was about to leave the onboard wardroom, the C
aptain asked him to come to his cabin.

  ‘Congratulations are in order, Peter.’ The Captain said and put his hands over his belly while he leant back in his chair.

  Peter just stared at the man.

  ‘Sit down.’

  Peter nodded and seated himself opposite the Old Man. The Captain’s cabin was a roomy space, with a wide bunk and a desk with two chairs for visitors. Peter would have felt more comfortable standing up. Somehow being seated opposite the Captain felt as if he was in serious trouble.

  ‘You’ve been selected to attend the next Submarine Command Course.’ A smile was hovering around the Old Man’s lips. How long had he known about this, Peter wondered.

  ‘Just got the cable this morning,’ the Captain added.

  Peter was speechless. This was what he had been dreaming about ever since he signed up to the service in his twenties.

  ‘As long as you don’t beat anyone up again,’ the Old Man said drily when Peter finally managed to thank him for the news.

  ‘No Sir,’ Peter replied. He wasn’t sure if the Captain had been joking or not.

  Nobody could say Peter’s career had been ordinary. When at the age of 20 he’d graduated from Dartmouth Naval College with all the pomp and ceremony demanded by the Queen’s presence, he’d been destined to great things. Soon after, he’d decided to apply for the submarine service and had qualified in as short a time as possible.

  He thought back to those times. He’d been so in love with Kaisa, and had such a brilliant future in front of him, he didn’t think anything could ever touch him. He was on his way up, up to the dizzy heights of a celebrated naval career. How confident he’d been when he’d triumphantly caught his Dolphins, the badge of the underwater service, in his teeth from the bottom of a glass of rum!

  After that Royal Navy rite of passage, which all newly qualified submariners had to go through, Peter had passed the nuclear exams that followed and been assigned to serve on a Polaris sub. Even with the Court Martial on his record, he was now the Navigating Officer in the Polaris fleet. It seemed his career was continuing its upwards trajectory.

  Peter hurried off the sub and walked towards the wardroom on the base. He wanted to telephone Kaisa in London immediately, but when the phone in their Notting Hill home rang and rang, he was disappointed not to be able to tell her the news. He put down the phone, went into the Back Bar and ordered himself a whisky.

  He ignored the surprised looks of some of the junior officers drinking pints in the corner and found himself an empty table. He took a large swig of his drink. The whisky burned his throat – he didn’t usually go for spirits but the occasion seemed to warrant it.

  The timing was perfect: with Kaisa newly pregnant, the course would be over and done with by the time she’d given birth. He allowed himself to dream how he’d be a fully-fledged submarine captain by the time their first baby was born.

  Of course, he was apprehensive about the prospect of Perisher, as one of the toughest leadership courses in the world was known. It had a high failure rate, but he knew his technical ability was good, even excellent. Peter didn’t doubt his skills in the mental arithmetic needed to calculate various speeds and courses of vessels, but he worried that Teacher, as the course leader was known, might have a preconception about him. Would he try to use ‘the incident’, as everyone kept calling the brawl with that coward in the Falsane pool, to test Peter’s psychological strength? Is that why the Captain had mentioned the fight with Duncan? Did he think his past could affect his performance on the Perisher course?

  Peter didn’t know who Teacher would be on this occasion, but he’d heard one or two of them could be real bastards. Peter flinched at the prospect of the terrible nickname he’d been given immediately after the Court Martial, ‘Bonking Boy’, resurfacing. He’d not heard it for years now, and it seemed most people had forgotten about it, or else lost interest in the fight. It was yesterday’s news, helped, of course, by the fact that Duncan was no longer a serving naval officer. He’d done the honourable thing, the rat, leaving after ‘the brawl in the pool’, as the headline in the Daily Mail had put it, and after he’d taken advantage of Kaisa.

  Peter shook his head to banish thoughts of those times. He knew Kaisa wouldn’t do anything like it again, and he also knew that he was partly to blame for her unhappiness in Faslane that had led to the brief affair. Peter had been walking around with his eyes closed, letting the tosser get close to Kaisa. But it was all done now, long gone and never to be discussed. Besides, he was about to be the father of their child, so even if he still wanted to kill Duncan, or still kept seeing Kaisa being kissed in his arms, and sometimes, in his worst nightmares, being pinned down by him, that didn’t matter now.

  Peter finished his whisky in one gulp and vowed that during Perisher, which would form the most important months of his career – if not his life – he would control himself, like he had done every day of the past five years.

  Peter got up and went to telephone Kaisa again. This time she was at home, but Peter decided he’d keep news of the Perisher course as a surprise for her. Instead, he’d ask her to come up to Helensburgh for a few days.

  Six

  When Peter asked Kaisa to come up to see him during a late phone call on Tuesday night, she’d jumped at the chance to see him. She was disappointed when there was a delay with his homecoming (again). Now there was something wrong with the submarine. He would have to stay put in Faslane for a few days longer, but could have Wednesday and Thursday off, as long as he remained nearby and at the end of a phone, in case he was needed.

  Why that might be was classified information, and Kaisa didn’t ask. She managed to change her shift at the BBC, and on Wednesday morning she got into a cab and set off early to the airport. Kaisa knew there was a good chance she could get a standby ticket on an early morning flight to Glasgow at Gatwick. She was desperate to see Peter, not only because she missed him, but because she wanted to tell him in person about the baby.

  Or the lack of it.

  On Monday, her kind old GP had confirmed the miscarriage, something that hadn’t been a surprise to Kaisa. He’d told her to wait three months before trying again.

  On the flight she’d resolved not to tell Peter about Duncan, or the test she’d taken at the GP’s surgery, during this short visit. She knew that she should, but she wanted to have the result first.

  She didn’t know what she would do if it was positive. She just couldn’t imagine the conversation with Peter. She knew he would be angry, and also scared. And, this was something Kaisa had tried not to think about as she lay awake in her bed, what if AIDS was the reason she kept losing her babies? It hadn’t occurred to her until she’d been travelling home on the Tube. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, the thought had entered her fuzzy mind.

  She hadn’t slept properly since her meeting with Rose. When she had eventually dozed off, images of Duncan’s face, with sunken eyes and a pallor so extreme that he looked almost opaque, disappeared into the white walls of her bedroom.

  The GP had given Kaisa a leaflet about the virus, called ‘AIDS and Women’. In it there was a section about pregnancy:

  ‘If the woman or proposed father is carrying the virus, it is best for the woman to avoid becoming pregnant. Pregnancy increases the likelihood of an infected woman developing full-blown AIDS. There is also a very real risk of passing the virus to the baby.’

  There was nothing about miscarriages, but perhaps the virus could prevent the baby from forming correctly?

  Kaisa shivered and felt bile rise in her throat when she thought about the leaflet, which was decorated with paper chain figures in black, like deadly shadows of the paper chain elves that Kaisa hung over the fireplace in her living room in December.

  TV ads showing the word AIDS carved into a gravestone and the message ‘A deadly virus with no known cure’ haunted her too; she kept seeing Peter’s name on granite above a mound of freshly dug earth.

  She gazed out of the window a
t the blanket of clouds below. The sun was a pale bright oval in the distance, shining into the opaque layer and making it look like a giant, fluffy bed. She had a sudden urge to lie on the clouds and forget all about having a baby, about Duncan, the virus or Peter.

  Instead, she closed her eyes and decided she needed to keep her head; the GP had said it was ‘very unlikely’ that she would have been carrying the virus for five years. He’d taken blood from her, and she’d signed a form to say she wanted the test to be handled anonymously. He’d raised his eyebrows when Kaisa had told him why she needed the test, but hadn’t commented apart from handing her the leaflet and saying it was up to her whether or not she told her husband.

  The kind, elderly doctor said that the test results would be back in two weeks’ time and added that she should encourage her husband to be tested. Kaisa had nodded. She’d been vague about how she might have contracted the virus, just saying it may have happened five years previously from a man who was now severely ill.

  She wondered if the GP had worked out that she’d been married to Peter for six years. Still, he had used the words ‘very unlikely’, which happened to be the same phrase Rose had used. But what were the odds? Kaisa wished she’d known a percentage; was it a 50 per cent, 20 per cent, or even as little as 1 per cent chance that she had AIDS? Not knowing was driving her crazy, another reason why it was best not to tell Peter. If she could at least save him from the worry, when the results of the test were unknown, surely that was for the best?

  As the Captain announced they were about to land, and the air hostess removed Kaisa’s tray, on which there was a bacon roll (untouched) and an empty cup of coffee, Kaisa wondered how she could keep the news from Peter.

  She knew he would be distracted by whatever was wrong with the sub; that his mind would be on the possibility of being called in any minute rather than on his wife.