by Helena Halme
‘It’s good for you.’
He reached out for the salt and sprinkled it liberally over the food. ‘Just like your mother, can’t season food.’
Kaisa looked down at her plate and bit her lip.
After a while he asked, ‘When is he coming then?’
Eventually Kaisa’s father agreed to stay at his girlfriend’s place for the week when Peter would be in Helsinki.
‘But I do want to meet him.’
Kaisa looked up at her father. His pale-blue eyes were serious. For a fleeting moment she could see her old dad, the one who called her ‘My Best Girl’, and who took her to the park and let her sit on his knee and stroke the soft flesh of his earlobe.
He got up from the table, leaving his plate with the uneaten courgette on it. He belched loudly.
Kaisa looked away.
‘I’ll teach him how to drink vodka,’ he said and left the kitchen. Kaisa heard him sit down heavily in the TV room. ‘You tell that Englishman there’s no point in coming to Finland unless he’s prepared to drink like a man,’ he shouted over the noise of the TV.
Peter didn’t seem at all fazed by the idea of meeting Kaisa’s father. ‘You’ve met all my family,’ he said and put his arm around Kaisa. He’d just arrived from London and they were walking up from Mannerheim Street tram stop to the bus station to catch the Number 105 to Espoo.
It was strange to meet up so quickly again, after only five weeks, rather than the many months they’d endured without each other before. With Peter’s lean, taut body next to her, Kaisa was relaxed and comfortable, chatting about what she’d planned for the week. Again she felt as if they were a real couple. Had she imagined his doubts in Hyde Park? He put his hands inside Kaisa’s coat to warm them from the bitter cold of the late February afternoon. When he kissed her in full view of the other people queuing for the bus, she couldn’t imagine he’d be with anyone else. But Kaisa couldn’t ask. She couldn’t even bring up the subject of ‘The Future’. She was afraid he’d repeat what he’d said to her last summer. If he did that, Kaisa would surely die. She’d never want to see him again and that alone would kill her. Never mind what the failed relationship would do to Kaisa’s ex-fiancé, who still phoned her on any pretext, asking, ‘Are you still running after that foreign sailor?’
The cellar of Kaisa’s father’s place had a sauna with a pool, shared by a couple of other houses in the development. Kaisa had booked it for that first evening.
‘I didn’t bring my swimming trunks.’ Peter stood in his underpants in the middle of the small changing room. After all they’d done in bed, was he shy? Kaisa pulled her top off, and stripped down to nothing.
‘Ah,’ Peter said. He dropped his pants and followed Kaisa into the hot, darkened sauna.
After a few moments, when their bodies were used to the heat, Kaisa threw water on the coals.
‘This is called a löyly.’
Peter made a sound and ducked. The steam filled the space and the lovely prickly feeling of the heat touched Kaisa’s body. Like all Finns, she loved the sauna. When Kaisa was only three days old her father took her into the sauna in their summer cottage by the lake. Kaisa enjoyed the heat so much they called her the ‘sauna baby’.
‘You OK?’ she said to Peter. He was almost doubled over on the bench next to her.
‘Yeah, just a bit hot.’
‘Sorry, we’ll go for a swim to cool down.’ Kaisa took Peter into the pool, ignoring his protests about not having any clothes on, ‘There’s no one there!’
They swam in the cool water of the swimming pool then went back to the warm sauna.
‘I feel wonderful,’ Peter said after they’d had a few more rounds of löyly followed by another swim in the cold pool. Kaisa smiled. She’d make a Finn out of this Englishman yet.
Peter and Kaisa met her father at a Russian restaurant called Saslik. Kaisa had never been there, but her father had said, ‘She likes it,’ and Kaisa realised he was going to bring his girlfriend.
The place was decorated with dark-red and blue colours, the tablecloths looked like satin, the wallpaper velvet. Lamps were slung low over the tables. As they sat down, Kaisa’a father nodded to an unseen waiter who brought a round of clear vodka.
‘To the Finnish ladies,’ Kaisa’s father said and lifted his glass.
His girlfriend, whose name, Kaisa had learned for the first time earlier that evening, was Marja, giggled. Kaisa took a sip of her schnapps, the girlfriend drank half of hers and both Peter and Kaisa’s father emptied their glasses. Kaisa’s father’s eyes did not leave Peter’s face. The waiter came around with the bottle to refill the glasses. Kaisa’s father nodded to the man, who was dressed in an old-fashioned Cossack’s outfit, to leave the bottle of Koskenkorva on the table. Kaisa glanced over to Peter at her side. Peter put his hand on her knee under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
‘I’m fine,’ he whispered in Kaisa’s ear.
‘So, you like vodka?’ Kaisa’s father said, addressing Peter, and lifted his glass again.
They hadn’t even looked at the menus yet.
Everyone got very drunk very quickly. But no one fell under the table. No one said a cross word or had an argument. Kaisa’s father didn’t even mention her mother. The food was excellent. Beetroot soup, rare spiced beef with dark sauce, garlicky potatoes, cabbage of some kind. They laughed a lot. Kaisa’s father bought two long-stemmed red roses, one for Marja and one for Kaisa. He wanted them all to go dancing together. When Peter and Kaisa decided to leave instead, he looked sad and embraced them both warmly.
‘I think I passed,’ Peter laughed outside the restaurant. Kaisa’s father had insisted on giving them money for a taxi and got the Cossack to order it for them. It was as if the past ten years hadn’t happened. It was as if Peter had resurrected Kaisa’s old father. During the evening he’d even called Kaisa ‘My Best Girl’ again. Kaisa curled up against Peter on the leather seat of the taxi and fell asleep.
* * *
Peter’s visit coincided with the annual Hanken Ball. Tuuli wanted to know if he was going to wear his uniform, but he had told Kaisa on the phone from Faslane that this wasn’t allowed. She’d been a little disappointed but thought it must have something to do with the Cold War, and Finland being so close to the Soviet Union. Not that she could see anyone in Helsinki being interested in her British submarine sub-lieutenant.
On the night, Peter looked so handsome in his DJ, just as he did in his uniform at the British Embassy cocktail party all those years ago, that Kaisa didn’t mind. Kaisa wore a ball gown, made by an old school friend. It was a strapless white silk dress, with a narrow black belt, which tied with a small bow at the back of the waist. The long ends fell behind her.
This was Kaisa’s first university ball, but Peter had been to many black tie events during his time at Dartmouth and since. But he said none were quite like this one. According to the Hanken tradition, long tables were served rounds and rounds of schnapps, which were consumed to various drinking songs. There was a Drinks Master, who led the proceedings, and towards the end of the evening some of the top table climbed onto the table to sing. One of them was the Finnish Foreign Minister. He was there without his famous wife this time.
But Peter didn’t just watch the other people in the room. He took Kaisa to the dance floor. She floated in his arms. She wanted everyone to see, especially the gang of rich boys, how in love they were. Back at the table Peter turned to Kaisa and said, ‘You’re beautiful, did you know that?’ She smiled and felt his warm hands around hers. He looked at Kaisa intently. She burned under his gaze. ‘Can I ask you something?’ he said.
‘Of course.’ Kaisa felt out of breath. Was he going to talk to me about ‘The Future’?
‘Will you marry me?’
Fourteen
Kaisa felt a tap on her shoulder. Tuuli’s face looked serious. ‘Bathroom, now!’
Kaisa smiled at Peter, ‘Sorry, I’ll be back.’
He looked surprised but
Kaisa didn’t have time. Tuuli was already dragging her away from the table. They made their way through the throng of people on the dance floor and passed the bar where Kaisa’s eyes met with the rich boy who’d asked her out. He lifted his glass as if to toast Kaisa. He’d loosened his black bow tie and undone the top button of his shirt. He was leaning casually against the bar, with the drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Kaisa smiled confidently back at him. She was so happy she didn’t care what he thought.
‘Guess what?’ Kaisa said once they were inside the gleaming ladies’ room. The Hanken Ball was held in a smart private club in the centre of Helsinki. Kaisa had never been inside before. Every room was decorated in a thirties art deco style, with black marble and shining chrome. Absentmindedly, she wondered how they could keep a bathroom so clean all the time. Tuuli looked at Kaisa through the mirror where she’d started adjusting her make-up.
‘Peter asked me to marry him!’ Kaisa said.
Tuuli dropped her hand, ‘What?’
‘Just now. Isn’t it wonderful?’
‘What about your studies?’ Tuuli’s face was blank, unsmiling.
Kaisa looked down at her hands. It was as if she’d splashed cold water over her face from the shiny white sink. ‘Yes, I know, I’m not going to drop out – again – but isn’t it...’
‘Have you ever read Doris Lessing’s The Perfect Marriage?
‘Well, no...’
‘I’ll lend you the book.’ Tuuli turned back to face the vast mirror. She was dabbing at her make-up while tears ran down her face, smudging it further.
Suddenly Kaisa remembered she’d dragged her to the ladies’ for a reason. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘He’s dancing with another girl!’
‘Who?’
Her friend shot Kaisa an accusing glance, ‘The Incredible Hulk. I saw them smooching before and just now I saw him kiss her. On the mouth!’
Tuuli’s new boyfriend had an incredibly strong physique, and with his spiky dark hair he looked just like the cartoon character. The Hulk was her partner at the ball. Kaisa knew she was really smitten with him, although she said she no longer believed in love.
‘The worst of it is, I know her,’ Tuuli said between short sobs. Kaisa couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d never seen her friend so upset about anything. Especially not about men. ‘We went to school together,’ Tuuli continued, after she’d blown her nose, ‘but she didn’t get into Hanken. No brains.’
Kaisa hugged her friend. ‘She’s a bitch.’
Tuuli nodded and took a deep breath in. ‘They can both go to hell. I was getting bored with the Hulk anyway.’
Kaisa watched her friend make up her face again and give a fake smile at the mirror. She thought how strong Tuuli was; how she would never have coped with a betrayal like that.
‘How did the bitch get in anyway?’
Tuuli looked down at her purse. ‘I think she came as someone else’s avec.’ She straightened her back and looked at Kaisa, ‘But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s go back.’
The two friends walked out of the ladies’ and through a set of double doors. Suddenly Tuuli turned around and, facing Kaisa, said, ‘But, you must promise me that you’ll not marry Peter. You can’t just become someone’s wife. You have to finish your studies.’
Kaisa looked at the eager face of her friend. She knew Tuuli was right. Kaisa had been to England; she’d seen how difficult it was to get a job. She didn’t want to end up being a barmaid in a pub somewhere. Or worse, have no job at all, and become a Navy wife, bringing up the kids singlehandedly while her husband was away at sea.
‘I promise.’ Kaisa took Tuuli’s hands into hers. They felt cold.
Tuuli nodded and they walked back into the vast dining room.
Peter was sitting just as Kaisa had left him, with one elbow on the table and holding a cigarette. He stubbed it out and got up. His politeness broke her heart. No Finnish boy would even have known that’s what you do when a lady comes back to the table.
‘Everything alright?’ he said.
‘It’s a long story.’ Kaisa watched as her friend made her way to the other side of the long table. She was glad to see she had another boy, a mutual friend, to talk to. There was no sign of the Hulk.
Peter’s gaze was steady on Kaisa. She knew he was waiting for an answer. He took Kaisa’s hands into his. She felt trapped and had a sudden desire to pull away from his grasp. She lifted her eyes to him. His dark eyes were wide, his mouth set in a straight line.
‘I still have a year and a half left at university,’ she said quietly.
Peter let go of Kaisa’s hands. He leant back in the chair. ‘I thought you might say that.’ But he was smiling. He gave her a light kiss. The Drinks Master had climbed onto the table. It was time for another drinking song.
When Peter left after his week-long visit, Kaisa was heartbroken, but didn’t cry. Clutching the red rose he’d bought her at the airport – it was a tradition now – Kaisa sat in the Finnair bus back to her father’s place in Espoo, full of determination to do well in her studies at Hanken. She was enjoying her new subject. Learning about political systems, about the workings of the labour market and about the intricacies of parliamentary democracy was a pleasure. And she was safe in the knowledge that Peter was serious about their relationship. Kaisa kept thinking: the sooner I get my degree, the sooner we can be together. Though they hadn’t expressly said it, Kaisa knew she would have to move to England. Not a big deal. She’d moved countries before and didn’t want to stay in Finland, anyhow.
The house was cold and quiet when Kaisa got back. Her father was at home, sitting in a dark room with a bottle of Koskenkorva vodka next to him.
‘Gone then, has he?’ he asked. Kaisa heard the familiar sarcasm in his voice and knew better than to answer. It was in these Jekyll and Hyde moments that she feared him most, so she went into her room, locked the door and put on the latest cassette Peter had brought with him. She decided to begin reading Karl Marx’s Das Kapital for an assignment due in the following week.
Fifteen
As spring arrived, and the snow slowly melted in the small patch of land outside the living room, Kaisa’s workload at Hanken grew. Tuuli was still very upset about the Hulk and had immersed herself in her studies. She’d lent Kaisa all of her Doris Lessing books and Kaisa had fallen in love with Lessing’s writing. Kaisa had never read a writer whose view of the world was so much like her own.
Kaisa found an old bike in the communal cellar next to the sauna compartment and her father said she could use it. When the weather was a little warmer she cycled to see an old school friend, Tanja, who’d started at Hanken a year after her. She lived with her parents a kilometre away; they’d sit in her bedroom and talk about university, men and fathers. Occasionally Kaisa would go out but she had little money or time.
Peter wrote as often as he could, and phoned when he wasn’t at sea. But he was at sea most of the time, now, it seemed.
During that spring, Kaisa’s third year at university, she spent a lot of time at the Hanken library, reading or borrowing books too expensive to buy. It was situated at the top of a modern office building, with one lift constantly ferrying students up and down. The staircase, which was only used when absolutely necessary, was the library smoking room, while the library was the meat market. You could pick up a date for the evening, much like a book you needed. Needless to say, the rich boys spent most of their afternoons in the library. The guy who’d asked Kaisa out now ignored her. If she passed his desk, on which his legs were invariably sprawled, he pretended to examine the text in a book and would not look at her. But if she turned around abruptly she’d catch him assessing her rear. But Kaisa didn’t care about him. After all, Peter had proposed to her. And she’d see him in April. This time they were going to meet in Stockholm, where Sirkka had promised they could use her flat for the week. Kaisa couldn’t wait to show Peter her second hometown. Besides, spring would be so much furt
her along there; the city would be filled with greenery, with Easter decorations and sunshine, and it would be the very opposite of grey, cold, windy Helsinki.
On the 3rd of April 1982 Kaisa got a phone call at 3am. ‘We’ve declared war.’ Peter’s voice sounded grave.
‘I know.’ Kaisa had seen it on the news, how the mighty United Kingdom, a former colonial power, had been humiliated by a small South American dictatorship. Still, she’d been amazed that they declared a war, in the 1980s.
‘It happened on my birthday.’
Kaisa realised Peter had had a drink.
‘And they’ve cancelled all leave, I mean ALL leave.’
Kaisa sat down on the floor next to the phone. ‘Does that mean..?’
‘I can’t come to Stockholm.’
The Falkland Islands, a small group of islands Kaisa had never heard of, somewhere off the coast of Argentina, was spoiling her plans to see Peter. How could this be? Absurdly she asked, ‘What about the flight?’
‘Act of War is force majeure. I’m in the Royal Navy; I’ll get all my money back.’
Act of War. That was all Kaisa could think about. ‘Are you…?’
There was a silence at the other end.
‘I mean, are they going to send you to…’
Peter interrupted her. ‘Please don’t ask. I can’t say.’
Peter didn’t tell Kaisa if he went to war. During the Falklands conflict they spoke very rarely. Kaisa felt isolated.
Even his letters dried up.
Kaisa tried to concentrate on her studies and spent most of her time in the Hanken library. As the main pick-up spot, it was ever busier. She kept bumping into Tom in the lift, or on the landing where he’d stand leaning against the steel banister, taking long drags on a cigarette. Once, when Kaisa and Tuuli were chatting in the stairwell, he came out alone from the library and was so startled to see them that he stopped dead. His worn-out leather jacket was undone, and his dark-brown hair flopped over his eyes.
