The True Heart

by Helena Halme

  She didn’t notice the two men standing in her front garden until she was passing her neighbour’s house. She spotted their backs, as they stood outside her door, ringing the bell. Then the padre turned around, and seeing her standing there, watching them, he said something to the officer next to him. The unknown man was in a uniform, much like Peter’s, except that he had thin hair, which she saw when he took off his naval cap. Both men began to walk towards her. Realising she had stopped, she started to make her way down the path.

  ‘Mrs Williams?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kaisa said, moving her shopping from her right hand to her left and rummaging in her handbag for the house keys. ‘I’m afraid my husband isn’t home,’ she said.

  The two men exchanged looks, and again the older officer spoke, ‘Can we go inside, please, Mrs Williams?’

  Kaisa nodded, ‘Yes, but as I said, Peter isn’t at home yet, so …’ she said, finally bringing out the keys. The man interrupted her, ‘I am Lieutenant Commander Stephen Crowther and this is Mr William Davies.’

  ‘How do you do,’ Kaisa said and shifted her shopping to the crook of her arm. It was heavier than she had realised it would be when she filled her trolley at Marks & Spencer.

  ‘Can I take that and carry it for you?’ Lieutenant Commander Stephen Crowther said, and without waiting for her reply he picked up the carrier bags. Kaisa nodded, and while the men took her shopping, she opened the door and ushered the two of them inside.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked as soon as they were in the small hall. As she showed Lieutenant Commander Crowther and Mr Davies into their front room, she let out a sigh of relief that she’d cleaned the house before going into town. But the men wouldn’t sit; instead they stood in the room, filling it with their presence and making it look cramped and tiny.

  ‘No thank you,’ they both said in unison. Then, exchanging glances once more, the older of the two, Crowther, spoke.

  ‘Mrs Williams, why don’t you take a seat.’

  Kaisa stared at the men, and realising they wouldn’t sit unless she herself did, she smoothed down her cotton skirt and seated herself on the old sofa, the first item of furniture she and Peter had bought when they moved in.

  The two men immediately sat down opposite her on the white sofa that Peter and Kaisa had found in Habitat last summer. They’d bought it after Kaisa had lost her first baby, when she’d told Peter that she wouldn’t want to try again. The sofa was terribly impractical, and showed every little stain, but at the time it had seemed the perfect buy for a childless couple.

  ‘Mrs Williams, I’m afraid we have some bad news.’ Lieutenant Commander Crowther was the first to speak again. He seemed to be in the lead, but even he looked nervous and unsure of himself. Kaisa couldn’t think why they would bring a naval Padre along to tell Peter that he’d failed Perisher. If that was what this charade was all about.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand,’ Kaisa said. ‘My husband, Lieutenant Commander Williams isn’t here, so …’

  ‘It’s Lieutenant Commander Williams, Peter, we are here to speak to you about.’ Crowther was fiddling with his naval cap.

  ‘Oh?’

  The Padre got up and came to sit next to Kaisa. ‘Mrs Williams, may I call you Kaisa?’

  Kaisa looked at the Padre with suspicion. The last time she’d had a Padre sit next to her on a sofa was when he had told her he couldn’t provide Peter with the correct documentation to marry her in Finland. That had resulted in a quickie marriage in the registry office in Portsmouth and a blessing in Finland instead of the full-blown wedding ceremony everyone had been expecting.

  She couldn’t understand what was going on now. Unless … fear crept up her spine and circled her tummy. She felt her mouth go dry. She nodded to the Padre.

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you, Mrs Williams, Kaisa, that your husband, Peter, had an accident onboard the submarine early this morning.’ It was the officer, Crowther, speaking across from Kaisa.

  ‘An accident?’ Kaisa heard herself say. Her voice sounded as if it was coming from a deep well, and not from her own mouth at all. She felt the room and Crowther and the Padre, whose name she had suddenly forgotten, grow more and more distant, as if she was moving backwards into a tunnel.

  ‘Yes, an accident.’ The man opposite her, or the Padre, Kaisa wasn’t sure which one of the faraway figures was speaking, said, ‘It was a terrible accident. Peter slipped on the casing when he was about to step onboard the transport vessel and he fell overboard.’

  ‘Is he OK? Where is he?’ Kaisa said. Her speech, as well as her vision, seemed to have worsened. She could hardly get the words out. She got up, knowing she had to go to Peter. She had to see how he was. But she felt dizzy and began swaying.

  Kaisa felt the hands of the man on her. Or perhaps it was the Padre with his black clothes who was holding her and pulling her back to the seat?

  ‘Mrs Williams, you must keep calm.’

  Kaisa nodded. Then she heard a noise and realised it was coming from her. She put her hand on her mouth. You must keep calm. They won’t tell you anything unless you keep calm. Kaisa nodded and lifted her eyes to the man opposite her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, so terribly sorry to tell you this, but your husband’s accident was fatal.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘You mean, he’s …, what do you mean, fatal?’ Kaisa said. She was still holding onto her mouth, and felt wet tears fall onto her fingers. She couldn’t breathe.

  Now one of the men was crouching in front of her, touching her shoulder, ‘Yes I am so terribly sorry but Lieutenant Commander Williams, Peter, your husband is dead.’

  Suddenly the room began spinning in front of Kaisa’s eyes, and everything went so bright she had to close her eyes.

  Twenty-Six

  Pirjo booked the next available flight and turned up at the house in Chepstow Place the day after Peter’s death. Her eyes looked swollen and bloodshot and she hugged Kaisa hard.

  ‘How did you know?’ Kaisa said when at last she settled down with a cup of coffee Ravi had brewed for them. Pirjo gave Kaisa’s Indian friend a long stare, but with his usual charm, Ravi soon won her mother over.

  After the Padre and the naval officer had managed to wake Kaisa up after she’d fainted in front of the two men in her own living room, they’d asked if there was anyone, any family, Kaisa could call. The only person, apart from Rose, who Kaisa didn’t want to call on so soon after Duncan’s passing, was Ravi.

  ‘He’s gone,’ was all Kaisa could say down the phone when she’d called his office. He’d hurried to the house on Chepstow Place and hadn’t left Kaisa’s side for 48 hours.

  Now Pirjo, sitting opposite her daughter at the pine table, lowered her voice. ‘I’m here now so you don’t need anyone else.’

  Kaisa hadn’t had the energy to argue. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said instead.

  Kaisa’s mother stared at her daughter and squeezed her hands even tighter.

  ‘I’m having hormone injections, which the doctor thinks will stop me from losing this one.’

  Pirjo nodded. ‘Oh my darling girl.’ Tears ran down her face again and Kaisa had to look away. She couldn’t cope with her mother’s grief. Besides, what did she have to be sorry about? It wasn’t her husband who had died, she hadn’t lost anyone. Kaisa was hit by a surge of anger so strong that she had to get up.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said and went up to the bedroom.

  Upstairs she hit a pillow, and threw it against the built-in wardrobe that stood at the foot of the bed. The thin panel shook for a while, but didn’t have the decency to break, so she threw a pregnancy book she’d got from WH Smith’s. Again, the veneer panel vibrated slightly, which made Kaisa even angrier. She took hold of the glass of water she always kept on the bedside table and hurled it at the wardrobe. Water and glass flew in all directions, and for a moment Kaisa felt good, but when the door opened and her mother walked in, with Ravi close behind her, and she saw them staring at her
, and at the mess on the carpet, she felt ashamed. She sat down on the floor and blacked out.

  Kaisa woke later, fully clothed on top of her bed. Someone had placed a crocheted blanket over her legs. She opened her eyes and sat up in bed. She felt her tummy and smiled, because she’d forgotten. For a few delicious seconds, she was happy about the baby, looking forward to seeing Peter later; wasn’t he supposed to be at home already?

  And then she remembered.

  Slowly the faces of the naval commander and the padre came into focus, the strangers who had come with the most horrible news, and she recalled the words: I am so terribly sorry but Lieutenant Commander Williams, Peter, your husband, is dead. Kaisa put her head into her hands and began howling. She wrapped her hands around her body and began rocking back and forth.

  ‘Kaisa, you must calm down,’ her mother was by her side and holding down her hands, trying to stop her movement. But Kaisa couldn’t stop; the only thing that helped at least a little was being able to move, to be able to shout and cry. When Kaisa brushed her mother away Ravi took her place. The man with the beautiful brown eyes crouched in front of her and said, ‘Shh, shh, it’s OK.’ He put his arms around her and whispered in her ear, ‘Think of the baby, Kaisa, think about the baby.’

  The baby, the fatherless baby. Kaisa thought and carried on crying.

  ‘You’re frightening the baby,’ Ravi said and Kaisa put her hands on her tummy. Somehow she’d managed to stop the rocking back and forth. And at that moment, she felt a movement, or not even movement, more like the wings of a butterfly fluttering inside her tummy. She looked up at Ravi and said, ‘It kicked, the baby kicked!’

  They all laughed; made stupid noises somewhere between weeping and whooping. Ravi and Pirjo put their hands on Kaisa’s tummy. She didn’t feel any more movements, but it was a sign, a sign for Kaisa.

  After that, Kaisa’s mother and Ravi agreed that he would leave Kaisa and Pirjo alone in the house and go back to his flat in Holland Park. He promised to check up on Kaisa each afternoon on his way back from work, just in case there was a repeat of her ‘attack’, she assumed.

  During the two weeks Pirjo spent with Kaisa, she cleaned the little house from top to bottom, and made Peter’s parents welcome when they arrived two days later, fighting tears and hugging Kaisa hard.

  On the third day after Peter’s death, when dusk had settled over the house and garden, and they were sitting in the lounge, Peter’s parents perching on the white sofa and her own mother sitting on the armrest of the comfy chair that Kaisa had chosen, she told them about the baby.

  ‘I’m getting hormone injections, so this one should stick,’ Kaisa added. She was again fighting tears, but it seemed there were none left. She was so very tired, so very tired of it all. The telephone had been going all day, with people wanting to speak to her. But she didn’t have the strength to talk to anyone, so while she was trying to sleep upstairs, her mother, with her faltering English, had thanked them for their condolences and tried to explain that Kaisa would not be coming to the phone.

  As the news of the baby sank in, Kaisa saw tears in Peter’s father’s eyes. He got up and touched her knee, saying, ‘Well done.’ Awkwardly, not knowing what else to do, he backed off and, looking at his wife for help, sat down on the sofa again.

  In her turn, Peter’s mother said, ‘God is merciful,’ and got up and kissed Kaisa on the cheek. Kaisa stared at the tall, lanky woman and thought, No, God is cruel and evil, but she didn’t say anything.

  Twenty-Seven

  The day of the funeral was a ridiculously sunny, early October morning. The beautiful little house in Notting Hill was swathed in autumn sunshine, as Kaisa, Pirjo, Ravi and Peter’s parents all piled into the three black funeral cars.

  Seeing the coffin inside the hearse, draped with the White Ensign, Kaisa’s knees buckled and she took hold of the doorframe. Her mother was behind her and supported Kaisa as she walked towards the waiting car.

  It was just ten days after the visit she’d had from the Padre and Lieutenant Commander Crowther. There were some high-ranking Navy officers, including Peter’s best man Jeff, and Peter’s former Captain, Stewart, smartly dressed in their gold-braided uniforms in spite of the IRA threat.

  Kaisa thought absentmindedly that this must be a special occasion, like a royal wedding or something. She also saw Jeff’s parents, looking old and frail next to Peter’s friend. Kaisa forced herself to say a few words to all of them.

  There were so many people at the funeral, some of whom Kaisa remembered from her days in Portsmouth and Helensburgh. She nodded to those she could remember and tried to keep herself steady. She felt so shaky, as if her body didn’t want to enter the Kensal Green Chapel they’d chosen for the funeral. She was grateful to Lieutenant Commander Crowther, or Stephen, as he’d insisted she should call him, who now came to stand by her side with Ravi and her mother. He gently guided them all through the day. He’d helped her so much, and had organised the funeral service with Peter’s parents.

  The only detail Kaisa had insisted on was that the ceremony would be held in London, close to her. She knew Peter wanted to be either buried at sea or cremated. She had insisted Stephen tell her exactly how Peter had died, but had fainted again when he’d told her he’d been caught up in the submarine’s propeller. He got his wish to be buried at sea, Kaisa had thought later. The cremation would be a formality, as there would hardly be any ashes to put in the urn. Yet Kaisa wanted a place where she could visit Peter, so there was to be a stone.

  As the funeral party made their way into the chapel, Stephen spotted a gaggle of newspaper photographers outside. He asked Kaisa if it would be okay for them to have a few pictures, and she nodded. He organised everyone to pose in front of the double doors, then asked the journalists politely but firmly to leave.

  When the music started Kaisa sat in the chapel, staring at Peter’s coffin, trying to comprehend what had happened and that he wasn’t ever going to be in their little house in Chepstow Place ever again. She clutched the single red rose she was going to place on the gravestone, and Ravi held her other hand the whole of the time.

  Beside her, Pirjo and Peter’s mother sat and wept quietly. Peter’s father stared ahead of him, sitting upright, holding his wife’s hand. Peter’s siblings and their partners sat in the next row. Kaisa had hugged his family briefly, unable to look at Nancy or Simon’s sad faces for long. Rose and her husband Roger sat behind them, and afterwards they, along with Stephen and the rest of the family, came back to Chepstow Place, where Ravi had organised a buffet and drinks.

  * * *

  In the kitchen, Kaisa could hear the voices of people talking in hushed tones in the lounge. She knew she needed to get back to the guests, but her legs were numb, and she was unable to move. Shifting in her seat, she suddenly realised her tummy was touching the edge of the table. She looked down at the growing baby inside her and realised she had to cope, she needed to be sane and well for Peter’s child. She got up from the table and, wiping the tears from her eyes, walked into the lounge.

  Among all the people drinking wine and chatting and making the room seem tiny, the first person Kaisa spotted was her mother. She wanted to bury her face in Pirjo’s embrace and ask the people to leave. But Pirjo took hold of her arm, supported her to an empty sofa, and sat down next to her daughter. With her mother’s help, Kaisa managed to get through the day.

  Twenty-Eight

  On the day before she was about to fly back to Helsinki, Pirjo asked Kaisa if they could go out for lunch. Kaisa didn’t know if she was ready to face the world yet, but guessed this was some kind of test her mother had devised to see if she could leave her alone. So Kaisa nodded and chose a place nearby, The Earl of Lonsdale, which she knew served decent food. She’d been to The Earl many times with Peter, and with Rose, as well as Ravi, and had to steel herself when she walked inside. Of course, the landlord was about and gave Kaisa a nod. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Peter.’

  ‘Thank you
,’ Kaisa said. She’d forgotten that Peter’s horrible accident had been in the papers. In one way that helped her, because she didn’t have to tell people, but on the other Kaisa didn’t want to share her grief with the world. There had been a couple of reporters ringing the doorbell asking for an interview. Kaisa had told Ravi and then Pirjo to tell them a simple ‘No.’ She couldn’t face anyone, not talk about Peter with anyone.

  ‘I’ll have a Coke – and a glass of wine,’ she now said to the landlord, and she glanced at her mother. ‘And the menu please.’ The man nodded and went to get the drinks.

  ‘I’ll find us a table, can you bring them over?’ Kaisa said to Pirjo, and her mother nodded.

  She sat in the far corner of the pub, which was half full of lunchtime drinkers, some of them tourists studying their maps, and a few builders in paint-splattered overalls hugging their pints of beer. Kaisa turned her eyes away from a couple drinking a bottle of wine, who were sitting close to one another and smiling. She looked at her mother, who was speaking in hushed tones with the landlord and sighed with relief. With her little English, Pirjo had managed to talk to the man about Peter so Kaisa didn’t have to. Now all Kaisa needed to do was avoid his gaze when he came to bring them the food.

  When Pirjo came back with the drinks, she smiled. ‘I’m going to be drunk on my plane home.’