by Helena Halme
Peter shook his head at Tony, but said nothing.
‘I’ll miss him,’ Nigel said, and then added, ‘but that’s the name of the game, eh, chaps?’
Peter and Tony nodded.
A senior rating popped his head through the door, and addressing Peter said, ‘Sir, you are required in the control room.’
‘Thank you, I’ll be right there.’
Peter got up and fetched his stop-watch from his bunk and put it around his neck. He took a deep breath and focused on what he needed to do. He had to concentrate on the forthcoming exercises and forget about Ethan and his departure. For one thing, it meant that if the statistics were anything to go by, the three remaining Perishers were safe. Wasn’t it one in four that generally failed? Peter shook his head; he mustn’t think that either. Teacher had made it very clear to them that every Perisher could fail. What mattered was that those who passed had both the aptitude and the leadership skills, as well as the technical ability to captain one of Her Majesty’s submarines. If there was any doubt in Teacher’s mind that something was amiss with any of them, they’d be escorted off. If the Perisher couldn’t ignore jibes about a past event in a naval base pool with a fellow officer, for example. Or jokes about the honour of the candidate’s wife.
Peter wondered if Duncan’s death had filtered through to the crew. What would they say if they knew he’d attended the funeral? Peter hadn’t spotted anyone else from Duncan’s Navy days at the church; but he couldn’t be sure he’d know everyone anyway.
He’d penned a short letter to Jeff, his best man, who had been at Dartmouth with him and Duncan, but he knew Jeff was in the Falkland Islands and wouldn’t be home for months. Peter shuddered and told himself to stop thinking about anything else but what he had been taught. Concentrate, man!
After the weekend at home, even after spending Saturday brooding over the sorry affair of his former friend, he’d felt in excellent spirits on his return to the submarine, full of confidence that he’d finish the two weeks sea-time with flying colours.
No one had mentioned his past, or Duncan, and even the Aussie had kept his mouth shut on that score. Peter had told both Ethan and Tony about the sudden death, not mentioning AIDS out of courtesy to his former mate. Both had been quiet, and Peter had suspected they’d already heard through the grapevine. As well as Ethan, Peter had grown quite fond of Tony. It seemed that the incident in the pub in Brodick was all forgotten.
But the sea-time was challenging. The scenarios Teacher put the Perishers through were more complicated than Peter had imagined. At yesterday’s exercise he’d had three frigates coming at the boat at once, and it had got very close to Teacher taking control of the submarine. That had happened to Peter only once towards the end of the first sea-time trials, but he knew that if it happened again, he’d be a gonner. Just like Ethan.
Twenty-Three
Kaisa had decided not to tell Peter about her pregnancy until after he’d finished Perisher. Whether he passed or failed, he needed to concentrate on the course without worrying about Kaisa or thinking about a baby. The Duncan affair was distraction enough; he didn’t need any more dramas.
The wonderful thing was that Peter was able to telephone her almost every week, and the night before her appointment with Dr Harris, when Peter was on his way out to join the sub, he’d sounded buoyant on the phone. ‘It’s all going well, just the two weeks at sea and I will be able to come home.’
The week the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy and offered Kaisa the hormone injections, Peter had begun the second, and the final, sea-time.
It was now mid-September and the evenings were getting cooler and the weather worsening. Kaisa had been sitting on the bottom step of the staircase at Chepstow Place, watching the rain beat against the living room windows. She’d come so close to telling Peter the happy news during their conversations. But she’d kept her head, and it was now only a matter of weeks before he’d be done. Or be hoisted off the submarine. It was harsh punishment for failure, but Peter had explained to Kaisa that it was a necessary rule. ‘You don’t want a bitter, old, failed Perisher breathing down a captain’s neck in the control room.’ Of course, neither of them had mentioned the possibility of failure since it would only bring bad luck.
But when the phone rang in the hall early on the morning of 30th September, and Kaisa’s bum was still smarting from the injection that she’d had the day before, she had resolved to tell Peter about the baby. She was ten weeks gone now; four weeks further in the pregnancy than she’d ever been before, and she was already beginning to show. She needed to talk to Peter about what to tell people at work. She also wanted to tell her mum and sister, and Ravi, if he ever spoke to her again, as well as Rose.
But not before Peter knew.
Kaisa lifted the receiver and said, ‘Hello?’ even though she expected it would be Peter at six am on a Sunday. (Although her mother had been known to call early at the weekend too.)
‘I’m coming home,’ Peter said. His voice was thin and he sounded tense.
The first thought Kaisa had was where she should hide the bottle of champagne she’d bought at Marks & Spencer on Oxford Street the previous day. She had stood in the store, staring at the wine display, and eventually picked up a bottle. Even if Peter failed Perisher, she thought, they could still celebrate the baby, although the prospect of an alcoholic drink made her feel a bit queasy. Now, though, she realised how stupid the purchase had been.
‘OK,’ she said.
‘I’m going to be home late afternoon,’ Peter continued in the same serious voice.
‘Are you OK, Peter?’ Kaisa asked.
There was a silence at the other end.
‘Peter?’ Kaisa said. She was getting worried now.
‘Not really.’
Oh, Peter, I’m so sorry.’
Again Peter was silent.
‘Let me know what flight and I’ll come and meet you at Heathrow.’
‘No need. I’m not sure of the timings yet.’
‘OK,’ Kaisa said.
‘Will you be home?’
‘Of course,’ Kaisa said. She put her right hand on her extended tummy. She was wearing Peter’s old white uniform shirt and his thick submarine socks. She liked to sleep in something that even after several washes smelt faintly of Peter. And the house was permanently cold, so to save on heating bills when the weather got cooler, she wore the woolly socks too.
‘Peter, do you know if you passed yet?’ Kaisa said while holding tightly onto the receiver.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘But what do you think?’
‘Oh Kaisa, I don’t know, darling. But it doesn’t matter, really, does it?’
Suddenly Kaisa could hear the warmth in Peter’s voice. ‘I love you,’ she said.
‘Same,’ Peter said. Kaisa knew he was smiling by the way he sounded, and she knew he would have told her he loved he if he could. There were probably several people listening in on their conversation.
‘I’ve got to go, darling,’ Peter said, ‘I’ll be home soon.’
But Kaisa couldn’t wait. ‘Peter, don’t go yet. I have something to tell you.’
‘Really?’ Again Kaisa could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Yes, I’m 10 weeks.’
Kaisa could hear Peter catch his breath, ‘That’s wonderful news!’
‘And, Dr Harris is giving me this new treatment; hormone injections for 20 weeks. They are hopeful that it’ll sort out the problem.’
‘Kaisa, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’
Kaisa swallowed hard. She wanted to cry out of joy. Peter was happy; even if he had failed Perisher, he was still over the moon that he would finally become a father. She hugged the receiver even closer to her ear, as if she was holding onto Peter.
‘Hurry home,’ she whispered.
‘I will,’ Peter said and he was gone.
Kaisa sat on the steps for a few minutes more, holding onto the receiver, listening to the empt
y tone at the other end of the line. I’ve made him the happiest man alive.
Twenty-Four
They’d carried out their final exercises. They’d all been allowed to phone their wives, or family, to say they’d be home that evening. The three men sat in the small wardroom and waited. They knew Teacher would call the three remaining Perishers, one by one, into the Captain’s cabin.
Nigel was the first to be summoned by the Coxswain. Tony and Peter didn’t speak while they waited. Both were tired from the most challenging days at sea they’d ever faced, and nervous about their fate. No words were needed now; each knew exactly how the other felt.
Peter gazed down at his hands and thought about Kaisa and their future together. He allowed himself to dream about holding his son or daughter in his arms, a small round-bellied thing, smiling up at him. He would be a father after all. He thought about the close call they’d had with AIDS, about Duncan’s passing and about the treatment Kaisa was receiving. He knew she’d never gone as far as she was now. His heart was filled with trepidation at the prospect of perhaps having to start a new career just as he was becoming a father. Would he be able to provide for his family if he failed Perisher and decided to leave the Navy? He knew he didn’t have to, there would be jobs and possibly a perfectly satisfactory career ahead of him in surface ships, but would he want to stay if he could no longer serve in submarines? His naval career would be marred by two black spots: a Court Martial for striking a now deceased fellow officer, and a failed Perisher course.
Suddenly Nigel stood in the gangway, grinning from ear to ear. The Coxswain was standing next to him, addressing Tony, ‘Your turn, Sir.’
‘Well done, mate,’ Tony said, getting up and shaking Nigel’s hand. ‘Here goes, wish me luck, boys,’ he added, placing his cap on his head, leaving Peter and Nigel behind in the cramped wardroom.
‘Congratulations, I knew you’d do it,’ Peter said and hugged his friend.
Nigel sat down and leaned back on the wardroom sofa, which also served as his bed. He put his hands over his head and exhaled deeply, letting air out of his lungs. With a wide grin he said, ‘Thank you. It feels good!’ Then, remembering that Peter had not yet found out his fate, he added, ‘You’ll be OK.’
Peter looked at his old friend. He wasn’t at all sure he’d passed. But he couldn’t help but smile.
‘Kaisa is pregnant again,’ he said.
‘That’s great news. Congratulations!’
Peter was too nervous to tell his friend about the treatment Kaisa was getting; besides, he knew Nigel wouldn’t be able to concentrate on Peter and Kaisa’s problems. He’d passed Perisher and Peter was glad for his friend. Would he follow in Nigel’s footsteps?
The last three weeks at sea had been taxing, and he knew he wasn’t as good technically as his friend, and he also lacked the ability to think as quickly as the Aussie did. Although Tony was sometimes a bit too flamboyant, and could fly off the handle at the crew, a side to him that Peter knew too well, he also knew that it had not been a problem during the last – critical – weeks of the Perisher course. Somehow Tony had been able to control his temper. So he’d probably pass as well.
Which left Peter.
Was it a bad sign that he was the last one to be called into Teacher’s cabin?
* * *
Everything after Peter’s meetings with Teacher was a bit of a blur.
When he’d stepped back into the wardroom and Peter had told the others what the Teacher had said, Tony had got a bottle of Scotch from the small cabinet serving as a bar in the corner of the wardroom and poured them all a large drink.
‘It’s over boys!’ Nigel had said, and they’d all downed the strong liquid in large gulps, while waiting for Teacher’s steward to pack their bags. It was the tradition that when the Perishers left the training boat for the last time, the practical things would be handled for them.
‘You flying down South straight away?’ Nigel asked Peter, and he nodded. He seemed to have lost his ability to speak. Kaisa’s news and the meeting with Teacher had made him feel shaky. He leaned against the bulkhead and tried to steady himself. It must be the alcohol that had gone straight to his head.
When, a few minutes later, the three of them were escorted off the submarine, Peter still felt unsteady as he climbed up the conning tower. Outside, the cold, fresh air hit his face and filled his nostrils. He put on his cap and felt a little better. He even allowed himself a slight smile. He’d soon have Kaisa, a pregnant Kaisa, in his arms.
He walked along the casing and noticed it was slippery. He was the last one off the submarine, and saw Tony and Nigel had already climbed onboard James Bond.
It was a dark night. Little wind, no stars, just a faint light in distance marking the horizon. Peter wondered what time it was, and realised he had no idea if the silvery light was fading into night or an indication of the sun coming up. He hadn’t recognised he’d stopped walking, gawking at the view, until he heard Teacher’s steward, who was behind him, carrying Peter’s bag say, ‘It’s cold, let’s get onboard, Sir.’ His hand stretched out in front of Peter, guiding him towards the waiting launch.
Peter moved forward towards the vessel. The two-man crew onboard saluted him, and he in turn saluted Teacher, making an effort to stand erect on the casing. The man, who Peter suddenly saw looked weary, nodded, took his hand and said simply, ‘Captain.’
Peter replied, ‘Sir,’ and proceeded to get onboard James Bond. He smiled, turned and stepped out, but somehow his foot missed the edge of the other vessel, and at the same time his back leg slipped on the casing of the submarine. He heard the voices of people shouting, while his brain registered the harsh chill in every part of his body, except his head.
He was in the water, and it was cold. He felt the dampness creep into his clothes and hit his skin. His legs felt heavy, so heavy that they were dragging him under. He thrashed madly with his arms, trying to get hold of something, but the side of the submarine was further away, and the hull of James Bond, bobbing on the water, grew more and more distant.
Suddenly, he realised what was dragging him further away – the propeller. He made an effort to calm himself and began fighting the drag with his legs, pounding the water hard, and for a moment, he thought he was making headway.
All I need to do is keep going and they’ll get me out of the water.
Images of Kaisa smiling, holding a baby in her arms, came into his mind, as he felt himself being dragged under.
No, this can’t be it, not now. Not now when everything is so good.
His head bobbed underneath the surface of the freezing water, filling his mouth and lungs with cold water. He fought against the strong pull of the sea, sucking him further down, and got his face up. He gulped in air. He could see a flashing light coming from somewhere, but a second later his lungs filled with water again and blackness overtook him.
Twenty-Five
After Kaisa had spoken with Peter, she phoned the newsroom at the BBC and told them to leave a message with the duty editor to say that she was too ill to come into work. She told them she had a tummy bug. She climbed back into bed for an hour, trying to sleep. But she couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful Peter had sounded and how he said she’d made him the happiest man alive. Although she knew that he felt the same way about the baby as she did, it was such a relief to hear him say that the foetus growing inside her was more important to him than his career. Or whether he passed Perisher or not.
Kaisa put her hands across her belly and closed her eyes. She wanted to rest so that she’d look fresh when Peter arrived home later that day. She thought about how he’d touch her tummy, and kiss her lips and gently hold her close.
None of her pregnancies before had gone far enough for him to see a visible bump. At only six weeks each time, she hadn’t really felt there was a real baby there, apart from perhaps the first time, when they hadn’t realised how easily a baby could be lost.
Kaisa thought back to last year,
when she had fallen pregnant for the first time. How joyous and carefree she had felt about it then! They had later realised the baby had been conceived in France during their summer holiday with Ravi.
That autumn, Peter had been serving in a diesel submarine, which was on a refit in Plymouth, so he’d been home every weekend. When, after they had returned home, her period had been a week late, she’d suspected something was up and bought a pregnancy test at the Boots on Kensington High Street. It was a Wednesday, and she’d wanted to wait until Peter was home for the weekend, but in the end she had peed on the stick the very next morning. She had hardly believed her eyes when the blue line appeared. The same day she’d gone and bought another test and got the same result the next morning.
When she told Peter about the baby over the phone the next evening, he’d been pleased, but not as emotional as he had sounded this morning. Now they both knew how easily this one too could be lost.
As Kaisa nodded off, she smiled to herself. For some reason, whether it was to do with the hormone treatment she was having, or Peter’s warm voice still ringing in her ears, she had a feeling that this little baby would stick around.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Kaisa saw a naval padre, followed by a naval officer she didn’t know, standing by her door.
Kaisa was on her way home, carrying her shopping bags out of the car. Although feeling guilty about calling in sick at work, and nervous about bumping into someone she knew, Kaisa had gone into town and bought two steaks and ready-made Dauphinoise potatoes, which she knew Peter particularly loved, from Marks & Spencer. She also got herself a new dress; a loose powder-blue A-line thing that she knew would do her for a few months before the bump became too large for anything but proper maternity wear.
Even though she didn’t want to think about it, she’d bought the dress because she’d be able to wear it even when she wasn’t pregnant. After the baby, she told herself, feigning a confidence she didn’t have. She’d decided she would be positive about this pregnancy. She’d heard somewhere – perhaps it was Rose who had told her – that positive thinking could beat breast cancer. Why wouldn’t it help her hold onto this baby she was carrying? She would try everything in her power to hold onto it, even if it meant going all ‘New Age’ on Peter. She laughed at the thought of Peter on a vegetarian camp somewhere, wearing a colourful kaftan and practising yoga with her.
