The Island Affair

by Helena Halme

Alicia goes to sit on a stool in the corner of the new kitchen, diagonally opposite Liam, and begins to chat to Hilda about her clothes shop in town, and about Uffe's potato crop. Her stepfather has left early to supervise the work, her mother tells Alicia, as she pours her a cup of strong coffee. As she sips it, Alicia begins to feel better. From the kitchen window, which overlooks an apple orchard, fields, and the sea beyond, she sees it's a sunny day. The rays glitter on the surface of the water. The kitchen is in the corner of the old house, which is surrounded by fields sloping down to the shore and the sauna cottage. She can just make out the roof and chimney pot.

  Uffe owns all the land as far as the eye can see, and for some reason, especially today, this thought of complete privacy, being cut off from the world outside, comforts Alicia. There's another red wood-clad cottage at the edge of the field, where Stefan once stayed with a friend he brought along for the holiday, and another one further down, painted pale yellow. There's a third cottage along the shore, beyond the sauna and the jetty.

  Alicia knows Uffe built all the simple square structures himself when his parents were still alive, and his father took care of the farm. He rents the properties out to holidaymakers via the Viking Line ferry company, and has done for thirty years or more.

  'Do you have any guests this year?' Alicia asks her mother.

  Hilda shakes her head. She's mixing flour with eggs and milk; she's making Liam and Stefan's favorite, oven-baked pancakes. 'The red and the yellow cottages are taken up by farm laborers.'

  'Oh?'

  She looks at the red cottage again, and sees a window is open. Outside, a striped towel and something looking like a pair of swimming trunks are hanging on a washing line fixed between two birch trees. She's saddened by the fact that she won't be able to wander around the cottages; sometimes she helps Uffe on changeover day, when one set of guests are leaving and another arriving. They clear out the rubbish, sort out sacks of empty beer and vodka bottles, plastic mugs, and crisp packets and take the bags on Uffe's tractor to the dump at the edge of one of the fields.

  'Can I talk to you for a minute?' Liam says suddenly. His English sounds wrong here somehow. But he's looking at Alicia, so she nods and gets up.

  'Sure.'

  Hilda lifts her head and gives Alicia a searching look.

  'It's OK,' she says to her mother in Swedish, and follows Liam up the stairs to their bedroom in the attic.

  Liam stands with his feet apart in the middle of the small room, on the only spot where he has enough space to stretch out to his full height without knocking his head on the beams on either side.

  'I’ve booked a flight from Stockholm to London for tomorrow.' Liam has his arms crossed over his chest and is looking down at his feet.

  Alicia gazes at his face and thinks he looks tired. Neither of them got much sleep after the row last night. They aren't used to sleeping in the same bed anymore, but on holiday they usually manage OK. Nothing about this trip is normal, Alicia knows that. Suddenly she realizes that to her it isn’t like a break, but a coming home.

  'I might stay on a bit longer than the two weeks,' she says.

  Liam lifts his head and now Alicia sees anger in his face. His mouth is in a straight line and his eyes dark. 'So this is it then?'

  'Says you! I'm not the one who's cheated,' Alicia says, trying to keep her voice low. 'I want us to start again!'

  Knowing her mother, she is certain Hilda will be downstairs in the hall, or even on the stairs, trying to listen to their conversation. Luckily, it's two floors up to the attic, and she isn't sure how much Hilda will understand. She doesn't want her to know why Liam is leaving.

  Not yet.

  She knows how much it would enrage both Hilda and Uffe to learn of Liam's affair; she can't cope with their emotions now.

  She adds in a lower tone, 'I want us to have a baby.'

  Liam's face crumbles, and he sits down on the bed. 'I'm not a bad man,' he says. 'I just think that when we are hardly speaking, sleeping in separate beds, having a baby is crazy. Besides, I can't do it. I can't take the risk of losing another child.'

  His shoulders shake and he covers his face with his hands.

  Alicia has never seen her husband cry. Not even during the awful weeks after the accident, or at the funeral. Her memory of those times is hazy, and she is grateful for Liam for taking care of her then, making sure she was medicated just the right amount, so that she could cope with the pain, but not so much that she would become dependent on the pills. Perhaps while she was out cold, he cried alone? She could imagine him at the pine kitchen table in the home in Crouch End, with his head in his hands, but she couldn't imagine any tears. Of course, he might have cried in the arms of Ewa, the Polish nurse. Did he cry while he made love to her, the woman with a beautiful figure and dark curls? Did he break down during her night shifts, no doubt arranged to coincide with Liam's evening surgeries at St Mary's?

  Alicia had begun monitoring his movements after the discovery of the keyring, and there was a definite pattern: each Wednesday he would come home late, around midnight, sometimes even one or two in the morning. Alicia could hear the shower being turned on in the bathroom that had been Stefan’s—and he would then turn in. The next morning he'd invariably be in a good mood. It was the tenderness with which he kissed Alicia on the cheek when leaving the house that hurt her most. Did he really need the infidelity, the sex with another woman, a woman so different from Alicia, with voluptuous curves, to deal with his grief? Alicia decided he did, so she just accepted this new arrangement. She was not enough for him, so what could she do? If she stopped the affair by making a scene, he'd only find someone else.

  After Stefan had gone, nothing seemed to matter anyway. Until the thought of another baby entered her mind. She doesn't know how many times she had tried to talk to Liam about it at home. The time had never seemed to be right. Their individual grief got in the way, Alicia had told herself each time she failed to utter the words she had been brave enough to let pass her lips last night.

  Being here, at home with her mother and Uffe, she felt more secure, safe. Even with the memories, the awful gaping hole Stefan had left behind, she is calmer here in Åland than she has been for the past six months in London.

  Alicia knows she should go over and sit next to her husband, to comfort him but she isn't able to move. She doesn't seem to have any sympathy left for him.

  'I am grateful for everything you did for me after... you know, after.'

  Liam looks up at Alicia and nods. His face is drawn, sad. His eyes have red rims and his eyelashes are wet. His whole demeanor is so different from the confident man Alicia knows, and she's suddenly taken aback, forgetting her own pain, or the sense of betrayal she has carried with her for so many months. Even the new, fresh, pain of his refusal to give her another baby.

  'Are you OK?' she says and sits next to him.

  Liam puts his head on Alicia's shoulder. She places her arms around him and makes soothing sounds. 'It's OK, just let it go.' She hugs him and they rock together on the low bed. Slowly Liam's tears dry up and he straightens his back. He takes hold of Alicia's hands and says, 'You know you are a wonderful woman. And I am sorry.'

  'I know.' Alicia looks at Liam's eyes. 'How did it happen? And why?'

  Now Liam hangs his head. 'I don't know. I guess you and I weren't, you know, even talking properly and I needed ...'

  Alicia thinks back and tries to remember when Liam began sleeping in the guest bedroom. It must be two, three years ago? At first it was because of his late-night surgeries; he'd often stay afterwards to finish the paperwork, and instead of waking Alicia, who liked to be in bed by 10pm, he'd sleep in the guest bedroom. Slowly the occasional night became a permanent arrangement. It's something they’d joke about; they even convinced themselves that sex was better when it wasn’t part of a routine.

  What a lie that was.

  Alicia can remember clearly when they last made passionate love. It was on the August Bank holiday, when
Stefan was at a sleepover with some friends. They’d finished a whole bottle of prosecco during a picnic on Hampstead Heath. It was a hot weekend, the last heatwave of the summer, and Liam had been kissing Alicia and covertly touching her breasts and bottom as they lay on a blanket underneath a vast elm. Alicia wore her favorite hot-weather dress: a floaty maxi with tiny flowers on it and a halter-neck fastening. It hugged her slim body and showed off her small breasts. They'd been like teenagers, willing the bus to take them home quicker so that they could devour each other. That weekend they'd made love three times, but as soon as Stefan came home, and the working week began, Liam had returned to the guest bedroom and the passion faded.

  'How long has it been going on?' Alicia now asks.

  Liam looks at Alicia with alarm.

  'Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything. I just want to know.' Alicia is surprised at her own calmness. She knows it's better this way. She doesn't have any feelings left for anyone, she will never love anyone again after Stefan, so it is better that Liam has found someone else. The fact that he hasn't made love to her because he was having sex with the nurse makes Alicia feel better somehow. It isn't her fault their life is coming to an end; it's his.

  'Five months.'

  Alicia can't help but gasp at Liam's words. 'So it started almost right after ...'

  'It isn't as simple as that.'

  'No.' Alicia tries to suppress her anger. She stands up and asks, 'What time is your flight from Stockholm tomorrow?'

  Eight

  Early on Sunday morning Liam and Alicia stand facing each other in the kitchen. Liam's luggage is packed and ready by the front door. He glances through the open door at the large grandfather clock, which dominates the back wall of the lounge.

  'What time did you say the bridge opens?'

  'On the hour and at half past,' Alicia says. She's in her usual spot, perching on a stool next to the window overlooking the fields and the sea. The coffee machine on the other side of the kitchen is making gurgling sounds. Alicia knows Liam is fully aware of the timetable of the canal that runs between Mariehamn and Sjoland, where Uffe's house is, but he's being his English self—making pointless conversation to drown out the silence between them.

  The small ferry port isn't busy when Alicia and Liam arrive there twenty minutes later.

  Alicia decides to drive him in Hilda's car; it would look odd if she asked her mother to go. The night before, Hilda offered to come along, but Alicia managed to convince her that she wasn’t needed.

  As usual, they are far too early. The check-in hasn't even opened and the only two desks in the tiny departure hall are empty. Alicia really just wants to leave Liam there, but she feels duty-bound to stay in case something goes wrong with his booking, unlikely though that is. Everyone speaks English, of course, but it doesn't seem right to abandon Liam at an empty ferry terminal.

  'Let me know when you get there,' Alicia says and sits down on one of the plastic chairs fixed against the long wall of the waiting hall.

  Liam gives her a quick glance, there's surprise in his eyes, but adds, 'Sure.'

  * * *

  Suddenly a door at the far end opens and Alicia sees a familiar, tall shape enter the terminal. Patrick walks confidently in, taking long strides toward the two check-in cubicles and looks up at a screen above them. He checks his phone and turns around to gaze at the large space. His eyes meet Alicia's and his face opens into a smile. In a few moments the man with the blue eyes is standing in front of them.

  'We must stop meeting like this,' Patrick says in Swedish.

  'Hi,' Alicia says and gives a little laugh. She cannot but return the man's infectious smile.

  'Not leaving already?' he says, his gaze moving from Alicia to Liam and back again.

  'Sorry, you didn't meet the other day, did you?' Alicia says, switching to English. She assumes Patrick speaks the language and sees that the man nods. She is breathless again.

  What is it with this guy that makes her feel like a teenager?

  'This is Liam,' she says and then, hesitating just for a moment, adds, 'My husband.'

  'Pleased to meet you.' Patrick stretches his hand toward Liam. His face is open, the smile still hovering around his lips.

  Liam gets up and the two men shake hands, but while Patrick looks relaxed, saying 'Good morning' in a slightly sing-songy, accented English to her husband, Alicia can see Liam's movements are guarded. With his lips in a straight line, he nods.

  'You too.'

  There is an awkward silence, magnified by the emptiness of the vast hall.

  'Um, I'm collecting some more guests for our party,' Patrick says. He's speaking to Alicia, who realizes she didn't say why they were here.

  'Liam has to go back early due to ... to his work,' Alicia says, trying to sound convincing. She smiles at Patrick. 'But I'm sure my mum and her husband would love to come.'

  'And you too, I hope?' Patrick says. His intensely blue eyes are boring into Alicia and she feels herself blush under the man's gaze.

  'Yes. I'd love to,' Alicia says, moving her face away from Patrick.

  There is a sudden crackle of a tannoy and the arrival of the overnight sailing from Stockholm is announced.

  'That's me. Well, nice to meet you. Sorry you have to leave the islands so early. Perhaps see you later this summer?' Patrick says to Liam, and then, turning to Alicia, says in Swedish, 'I'll remind Mia to send your mother the invitation.'

  With a wave, he moves toward the other end of the terminal, where a few people are already arriving from the customs hall.

  'Party?' Liam says. He's looking at Alicia with a different expression from the one he had before.

  'Yeah, his wife, Mia,' Alicia nods at Patrick, who is standing facing the arrivals section, his feet apart and his arms crossed over his suede jacket. 'Mia's dad basically owns Åland. They have a massive house and they like to hold parties. I met them on the ferry coming over and they invited us to their Midsummer bash.'

  'And you forgot to tell me about that?'

  Alicia looks at Liam.

  Is he jealous?

  'I forgot about it myself, to be honest,' Alicia replies.

  At that point, there is an announcement, in three languages, for passengers to board the Ålandsfärjan ferry. They get up and walk together toward the check-in cubicles, one staffed by a woman with pitch-black hair and pale skin.

  Liam turns to Alicia. 'Well, this is me.' He's looking down at his phone, the boarding card displayed on its screen, waiting behind two other passengers. He's got the black canvas rucksack that Alicia gave him one Christmas, years ago, slung over his right shoulder.

  'Have a good trip,' Alicia says. Suddenly she feels dizzy, and short of breath. Out of habit, she takes hold of Liam's arm to steady herself.

  'You OK?' Liam says and grabs her elbow.

  Alicia nods, but Liam steps out of the line, still holding her.

  'Where does it hurt?'

  Alicia wants to laugh. Where doesn't it hurt? She's aware of Patrick, who is just leaving with an older couple. He lifts his arm and waves to her, and she nods in reply.

  The check-in woman in the glass cubicle is staring at them and listening to their every word. 'I'm OK. I just felt a bit dizzy,' she says and tries to smile. 'I'll be fine.'

  Liam gives her his professional doctor's gaze. This was how their relationship began; he advised her about the headaches. She was a student at Uppsala University, studying English and journalism, and he was attending a seminar. They happened to sit at the same table in the cafeteria one wintry afternoon and Liam remarked on the weather. He wasn't used to seeing so much snow, and Alicia said how the cold weather always gave her migraines.

  'Do you want me to examine you?' Liam had joked during the evening they spent together, his eyes creasing up at the corners and his full mouth stretched in a delicious smile. Under his direct gaze, Alicia blushed, and lowered her eyes. She was only a student then, and this Englishman was so obviously more experienced, and old
er than her. But there was something enchanting about his dark eyes and direct flirtation. So Alicia had agreed to a consultation. They had already spent the day together, and they had kissed.

  Liam had gazed at Alicia, gently lifting her eyelids to look into her eyes. He then took her pulse and finally listened to her chest with an ear pressed against her breasts. Their proximity ended in another passionate kiss. Then pulling away from her, suddenly serious, Liam said, 'I have to be careful. This could be professional suicide, having relations with a patient.'

  'Oh, sorry,' Alicia said, believing him.

  Liam laughed, 'You are adorable!'

  Liam has that same concern in his eyes now, but without the laughter.

  'I'm fine, honestly,' Alicia says, freeing herself from Liam's grip. 'You'll miss the ferry!'

  Liam stands facing her for a moment, and then, with a sadness in his face, nods and turns away. Alicia watches him show his boarding pass to the dark-haired woman, walk briskly toward a set of stairs and disappear. He doesn't turn to wave, but Alicia waits until she sees him re-emerge on the high glazed walkway. He looks down at her, stopping for a moment. They look at each other and each lifts a hand in a half-wave at exactly the same time. Liam nods and boards the ferry.

  Nine

  Liam arrives at the house in Crouch End late at night. It's empty and dark. He's taken a cab from Heathrow, a luxury he decides he needs in the circumstances. Before turning in, he stands outside Stefan's empty bedroom. He can't cry, but when he sees his late son's Spurs duvet cover, a pain fills his chest, making it difficult to breathe. There's a scent in the room, his son's masculine teenage tang, which he has forgotten about until now. Perhaps he didn't notice it before? He wishes he could hold Alicia now. He would like to share his discovery of their son's spirit still alive in their house. He stares at the bedroom, taking in details of Stefan's messy desk, which neither of them has had the heart to tidy. His school rucksack is lying on the floor exactly as he left it, as are two pairs of trainers. Liam can't take any more; he closes the door quietly and goes to their bedroom, the room in which Alicia has slept on her own for the last six months. Or was it a year? Two?