by Helena Halme
But the Aussie wouldn’t let it be. ‘You might as well, don’t you think, Bonkie?’
Peter looked at Tony. Then he forced a smile. That nickname had enraged him each time he’d heard it after the Court Martial, and even though he’d got used it, it still hurt. But he needed to keep his head.
‘Tony,’ Nigel said. There was a warning in Peter’s friend’s voice.
‘I mean, your wife is probably at it as we speak?’
Peter looked down at his beer and tried to concentrate on his breathing. He didn’t trust himself to look at Tony or Nigel, or Ethan for that matter.
Suddenly, after what seemed to Peter like several minutes, he felt Nigel’s hand on his shoulder. Then he heard a forced laughter from his friend. ‘You’re not married are you, Tony?’
‘No, mate, don’t need the trouble!’ Tony replied. Peter was newly annoyed by the arrogance in his loud voice.
Peter lifted his head. Keeping his eyes steadily on Tony’s, he said, ‘So why don’t you see if you can have a go at our lovely barmaid yourself then, Tony? I’m sure she’ll not be able to resist your Aussie charms.’ Peter glanced at Nigel, who was sitting next to him.
Tony shifted in his seat and brushed back his golden locks. ‘Nah, I think I’ll try to get into my bunk early tonight. It’s been a tough week, eh?’ His tone was more conciliatory now.
‘Perhaps she’s not your type?’ Peter continued, even though he saw that Nigel gave him a look of warning.
‘What do you mean, mate?’
Peter took a swig out of his beer, ‘Well, perhaps you fancy a girl who’s got a slimmer figure, a flatter chest and perhaps a bit more down there, you know?’ Peter pointed towards Tony’s crutch.
At these words, Tony got up and slammed his now empty pint onto the table. ‘Look here …’
But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence. They saw the large, now all too familiar shape of Teacher approach the far corner of the bar where they were sitting.
‘How are we doing? Can I get you a round?’ the man, with his bulky, authoritative shape was looking at each Perisher in turn.
Tony had sat back down and now said, ‘Yes, thank you, Sir, very kind.’
The others, including Peter, murmured their thanks and as Teacher left them to order the drinks, Nigel spoke. ‘Listen you two. I don’t need to tell you how stupid you are being, do I? Stuff like that could get you both thrown out in a jiffy, and that’s not what either of you want now, is it?’
Peter looked at his friend. It was as if Teacher had just thrown cold water over Peter’s head and woken him up to the real world. I’m being stupid. As stupid as I was when I started that bloody fight with Duncan all those years ago. I’m better than this bloody Aussie.
Peter emptied his glass and glanced across the table at the Australian. Lifting his empty pint up, he said, ‘No hard feelings, eh?’
‘Yeah, right,’ Tony said and got up. ‘Any idea where the heads are?’
Nigel pointed Tony towards the men’s loos, took a deep breath, and leaned back onto the sofa.
‘Well, I’d better give Teacher a hand at the bar,’ Ethan said and got up.
‘What the hell?’ Nigel said to Peter when the older man was out of hearing distance. His face was inches from Peter’s and his eyes black with anger. ‘What the fuck did you think you were doing?’
‘Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have, but everyone knows he’s a poofter and that stuff about Kaisa really got to me.’ Peter replied.
‘Well don’t let it. Calling him out won’t do you any good whatsoever. Besides, what does it really matter anymore?’ Nigel finished the dregs of his beer, and seeing Teacher and Ethan approach with the refills, said, ‘Get your head straight, Peter, or I’ll throw you overboard myself.’
* * *
When Peter and the other Perishers got back to the base at Faslane, after another gruelling week at sea, they immediately headed for the Back Bar. Peter knew Nigel was expected at home at the Smuggler’s Way married patch, where he’d moved his family just days before the start of the Perisher course. But he’d agreed to one pint with Peter, who had to wait until the next morning to fly back to Kaisa in London. While chatting, the two men were approached by an old engineering mate of theirs called Bernie. Peter greeted the man, now almost completely grey, and asked if he would like a refill of his empty pint of beer.
‘Sure,’ he replied and settled himself between Nigel and Peter.
Peter ordered another round and they toasted each other.
‘How’s it going?’ Bernie asked, presumably meaning Perisher. Peter nodded and Nigel said, ‘Haven’t sunk a single submarine or ship yet, so that’s a positive.’
The all laughed at the joke, and then asked after each other’s wives. The women had lived in the married quarters when the three men served in HMS Restless. Peter looked down at his glass, thinking Bernie didn’t bring back good memories.
‘I wanted to tell you before you heard it through the grapevine,’ Bernie suddenly said, leaning towards Peter and lowering his voice.
Peter looked at the engineer. His eyes had gone grey too, to match his thinning hair. He had a few years on Peter, perhaps five, and made Peter think, Do I look that old too? He’d noticed that his own hair was becoming more salt than pepper. An image of his father, who now had a mop of pure white hair, flashed through Peter’s mind.
‘Duncan has passed away.’
‘Excuse me?’ Peter said, thinking he hadn’t heard right.
‘Oh my God. What happened?’ Nigel asked. He placed his pint on the bar and glanced along it to see where the steward serving behind the bar was. Luckily he was wiping glasses at the far end, while watching a small TV set fixed onto the corner of the room.
‘Well, he died of pneumonia, but it was really …’ Bernie glanced around and leaned in to whisper to the two men, ‘AIDS.’
Peter stared at Bernie, unable to say anything. Duncan had AIDS! Duncan was a shirt-lifter? That couldn’t be! Why, in that case, would he have gone after Kaisa? Kaisa! Peter put his hand over his mouth, placed his pint on the bar and steadied himself with his hand.
* * *
‘What the hell, Kaisa?’
Kaisa took a deep breath. She could hear Peter had been drinking. When he’d first phoned her and told her the terrible news about Duncan, Kaisa had been quiet. She’d had the phone call from Rose the night before and had shed a few tears for poor Duncan over the phone with her friend. Soon Peter had realised that Kaisa already knew, and had known for some time about Duncan’s condition.
‘I didn’t want to tell you because …’
‘Yes, now, what would the reason be?’ Peter said. ‘I am extremely interested to hear it!’ He was whispering loudly down the phone. She knew he was worried about being overheard. His strangled whispering sounded so angry that Kaisa didn’t know what to say. Not since the aftermath of the fight with Duncan had Peter been so livid with her.
‘Because I knew you’d be like this,’ Kaisa said quietly.
Peter didn’t reply.
‘But I told you, I’m not HIV positive, and neither will you be.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ Peter said, now using his normal voice. ‘It might have been prudent of you to let me know about this whole affair a bit sooner!’ he said drily in a loud voice, no longer caring who in the wardroom might hear him.
‘Can we talk about this when you’re back at home?’ Kaisa said, in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone.
‘OK,’ Peter said and hung up. He hadn’t even told her what flight he was booked on the next morning.
Kaisa went into the lounge, flicked the telly on and tried to calm down. The ten o’clock news was just about to start and the gongs of Big Ben rang in her ears and jangled her nerves.
She stood up, turned the sound down and sat back on the sofa. Kaisa took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was as if all the sneaking around, the relief over the negative test result months before and the new grief for Duncan hit her a
t the same time. She understood why Peter was angry; she’d been angry herself when Rose had told her about the AIDS virus.
Even at the best of times, Kaisa hated these rows they had over the telephone. You could never really hear what the other was saying, let alone thinking. She knew she should have told Peter earlier about Duncan and the possibility of her carrying the virus. She knew it was a big deal, especially as she was trying for a baby, however much Rose had tried to convince her that it was highly unlikely she would have contracted it five years ago. She’d told Kaisa that Duncan hadn’t been sleeping around that much when he was in the Navy, not compared with afterwards. Kaisa had no idea you could get AIDS if you weren’t gay, which Rose insisted Duncan wasn’t.
But she also knew that she’d kept a huge secret from her husband, while he was still on Perisher and needed to concentrate on the course. Just thinking about having to tell the whole sorry story to Peter set her heart pounding. It had been right not to tell Peter about the test and the possibility that Kaisa – and Peter – might be infected with AIDS, but at the same time, keeping such a huge secret had been dishonest.
Kaisa put her head into her hands. And now Duncan had died. At least she had seen him, and even though she hadn’t actually spoken to him much, because he had been so poorly and struggling to breathe, let alone have a conversation, she believed those few words, and the fact that she’d told Duncan she’d forgiven him, made him understand that she still cared for him as a friend. If only she could make Peter see that.
But her thoughts quickly returned to Rose. Getting up again, she dialled her friend’s number. She waited for several rings, but there was no answer. Then she looked at her watch and realised it was too late to call anyone and replaced the receiver on its hook. Poor Rose would be organising the funeral, she thought, and Kaisa suddenly knew she wanted to go. She decided to write her friend a note. She picked up some blue Basildon Bond paper and the fountain pen Peter always used for official Navy correspondence, and began to write.
Nineteen
Peter looked tired when he stepped out of the black cab outside their house on Chepstow Place. He hadn’t shaved and his jaw was dark with stubble, making him look like an old sea dog, which Kaisa supposed he was. He was carrying his battered, old Pusser’s Grip. The cream coloured canvas of the holdall had dark patches at the corners.
Kaisa wanted to run to him and put her arms around Peter’s neck, but she wasn’t sure how angry he was. Besides, the neighbours might see her and she knew how he hated that kind of public show of emotion, so she stood at the door and smiled at him while Peter took the few steps along the front garden.
It only took one look, and she was in his warm embrace. She could tell he’d forgiven her and had really missed her, this time by the force of his arms around her and the way he pressed his hips against hers.
‘Take your skis off first,’ Kaisa joked.
‘What?’ Peter pulled back and stared down at Kaisa.
Close up, she could see his eyes were bloodshot and the stubble on his chin was older than just one day’s growth.
‘Oh, an old Finnish joke. The soldiers coming home from the Winter War didn’t take their skis off before …’
Peter closed the door behind him and, taking her hand, pulled her up the stairs.
* * *
Afterwards they lay in each other’s arms listening to the evening chorus of the birds in the garden.
Peter took Kaisa’s face between his hands and kissed her lips. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘I gathered,’ Kaisa smiled and laid her head on Peter’s shoulder.
They were both quiet for a moment. Then, because she knew she must broach the subject, Kaisa, choosing her words carefully, said, ‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you to worry while you were on Perisher …’
Kaisa could feel Peter’s body tense underneath her. She wondered if she’d made a mistake talking about it now, so soon after their love-making.
Peter lifted himself up, and sat at the edge of the bed, his back to Kaisa. His shoulder lifted as he inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly.
‘OK, let me have the whole story,’ he said.
‘Can you look at me, Peter, please?’
Her husband turned his head around and Kaisa, grabbing the duvet, climbed over to sit next to him. She wrapped some of it over Peter, and sitting like that, side by side, Kaisa told him the whole sorry tale of how Rose had broken the news of the virus, and how she had taken the test, nervously waited for it, while keeping Peter in the dark. She also told him about Duncan, and how ill he’d been, and how he’d asked to see her.
‘And you went,’ Peter said, lifting his head and looking directly at Kaisa. His eyes were sad, and his face had a resigned look.
‘Yes.’
‘Right,’ Peter said.
‘I’m sorry, but now he’s gone, I’m glad I did,’ Kaisa said, looking down at her hands.
Peter was quiet and Kaisa was afraid to say anymore. Whatever she had imagined, the many scenarios of how she was going to tell Peter everything, none of it was as bad as his silence was now.
Peter shifted a little and Kaisa imagined he was gong to get up and leave her there, hanging, too angry to speak to her. Instead, he put his arms around Kaisa and said into her ear, ‘I agree.’
Kaisa’s relief was palpable. It was as if a great weight that had been pressing down on her chest had been lifted off. She searched Peter’s mouth and was surprised to find that there were tears running down his face. She’d never seen him cry before.
‘Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry.’
‘No, I should be sorry. You poor darling, having to keep all of this from me, and then I act like a complete ass.’
They kissed for a long time, and then hugged each other, Kaisa rocking Peter on the edge of the bed.
‘It’s OK,’ she kept saying over and over.
* * *
After lying in bed for what seemed like hours, Kaisa put her head on Peter’s shoulder and said, ‘Are you now going to tell me how it’s going?’
Peter got up and began searching for his cigarettes. As he looked in the pockets of his trousers, Kaisa admired his tall, muscular back, but noticed that there was a tiny bit of loose fat around his hips that she hadn’t noticed before. We’re both getting older, she thought. Soon it’ll be too late for us to have a child.
’So?’ she said when Peter had got back into bed, sitting up against the pillows, smoking his cigarette.
‘It’s hard, but I think I’m doing OK,’ Peter said, blowing the smoke away from Kaisa and out of the window he’d cracked open after finding the packet of Marlboros in his Pusser’s Grip.
‘You’ll soon have to give that up when you’re with me, if I …’
Peter put his arm around Kaisa’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. ‘I know, Peanut.’ He straightened himself up and said, ‘Are we trying again? I didn’t think … should I have worn a jacket?’
Kaisa smiled, ‘No, that’s fine, we can try again. It’s been three months.’
Peter stubbed out his cigarette on a saucer he’d found on the bedside table and turned his face towards Kaisa’s. He took her hand between his and said, ‘Are you sure?’
Kaisa looked down at Peter’s hands. His fingers were long, and there were a few dark hairs between the knuckles and on the back of the hand. Her own hands between his looked small and childlike.
‘I’m fine; besides, it’s been more than three months.’ Kaisa smiled at Peter and he grinned back. ‘We’ll just have to make this weekend count then, won’t we?’
He took Kaisa into his arms once again and kissed the back of her neck.
* * *
It wasn’t until they were having breakfast the next morning that Kaisa felt she could broach the subject of Duncan’s funeral.
‘I spoke to Rose,’ Kaisa said. She’d phoned Kaisa back an hour after she’d finished the letter. Rose had been tearful, and upset, but had told Kaisa that she and Peter would b
e more than welcome to attend the service, which was to be held at their local church on Saturday.
‘The funeral is tomorrow. We might want to go? You don’t need to go back until Sunday, and we could drive there and back in a day?’
Peter sat at the table, with the Telegraph open on his lap, ‘You are serious?’ He looked at Kaisa with an expression that she couldn’t decipher.
Kaisa looked at her hands, ‘You were at Dartmouth together. And friends, until …’
Peter was gazing at her. ‘You never told me what he said when you saw him.’
Kaisa lifted her head and looked directly at her husband. ‘He was really too ill to speak. He had pneumonia and struggled to breathe, let alone talk.’ She felt her voice falter and tears prick her eyes. ‘But he asked for my forgiveness and I said that I had forgotten about it long ago.’
Peter got up and put his arms around Kaisa. ‘That must have been awful.’
Kaisa let herself cry then, tears that she had been holding back for what seemed like months.
‘Rose said we should go, “For a show of absolution all around”,’ Kaisa said, quoting her friend between sobs.
Peter put his hand on Kaisa’s chin and lifted her face up to his. He wiped her tears away with a tissue and said, ‘Is that what you really want?’
‘I think it’s the right thing to do,’ Kaisa replied.
Twenty
The church was a small, ancient building with a lychgate. In the graveyard, the old stone headstones were covered with moss and leaning this way and that.
Kaisa and Peter joined the queue of people making their way slowly along a narrow path leading to the entrance. Kaisa saw Rose standing there, with Roger and another, older man, who looked a little like Duncan. She presumed this was Duncan’s uncle. Two women, about the same age as Rose, stood on the opposite side of the door. One had a mop of blonde hair swept back in a stylish chignon, the other a short bob, also blonde. Kaisa guessed these were Duncan’s other cousins. The hair and facial features of the two women reminded Kaisa of Duncan, while his uncle had the same tall frame, and hunched his shoulders in the same manner. Kaisa shivered and squeezed closer to Peter, slipping her arm in the crook of his.
