by Helena Halme
‘You look good,’ he said as they both sat down, and then seeming to regret his words, he coughed and added, ‘I mean, that’s a nice dress.’
‘Thank you, so do you.’ Kaisa had decided to wear her new purchase. She needed to have the confidence of looking her best when seeing Peter. She now gazed up at Peter’s face and saw he was smiling. ‘I mean you look good, too, not that your dress is nice.’
They both laughed.
‘You got my letter,’ Peter said after the waiter had given them menus and Peter had ordered a bottle of red wine.
‘Yes, today!’ Kaisa told him how she’d gone home during her lunch hour (she didn’t say why), and had she not happened to do that she would not be sitting opposite him now.
‘Well that’s lucky then,’ Peter said, but he wasn’t smiling. His eyes were sad, as if he wished Kaisa hadn’t got the letter in time. ‘What will you have?’ he added quickly before Kaisa could say anything. ‘My treat.’
Kaisa ordered moules marinieres to start and a steak for mains. She felt like eating meat tonight, even though during her time in London she’d become almost vegetarian. Most of the girls in the office were fierce non-meat eaters, so it was just easier not to bring in ham sandwiches. Besides, Kaisa liked the lentil stews and bean salads they ate, and it was cheaper. Her new diet must have been why she’d lost so much weight. She was a size 10 now, whereas when she was married she’d sometimes had to go up to 14 in jeans and trousers.
‘You’ve lost weight,’ Peter said and lifted his glass.
Kaisa wondered if he was reading her mind.
They tasted the wine, which was very good, and again neither spoke for a while.
Kaisa could sense that there was something Peter wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to get around to it. Kaisa was surprised by her own reaction to him. She had been very nervous on the tube, which was probably why she had got so hopelessly lost, but now, facing him, her feelings had settled. It was nice to see him looking so well. The gaunt look he’d had in June had disappeared. Perhaps he’d put on some more weight, or perhaps it was the sea air. ‘You’ve been away?’ she asked.
‘Yes, got back on Wednesday. I’ve been in Pompey with Jeff.’
‘Oh, how is he?’
‘He’s getting married.’
“Finally!’ Kaisa laughed, ‘is this one going to go through with it?’
‘I think so, she’s a Wren, so there should be no problem career-wise.’
‘That’s good. Send him my love.’
Peter’s eyes met Kaisa’s and he nodded. ‘The wedding’s tomorrow.’
‘And you’re not out with him? Shouldn’t he be having his stag night now?’
‘No, Milly, that’s his wife-to-be, forbade it.’
‘Well, miracles never cease,’ Kaisa said.
They both laughed again. Kaisa wondered if he was going to take Val to the wedding, but stopped herself before formulating the question. Who Peter decided to date was nothing to do with her.
With the wine, their conversation grew warmer, and they began reminiscing about Jeff’s various girlfriends, which led to talk about their married quarter in King’s Terrace and the incident of the lost car. Although it was Duncan who had driven the car into next door’s garage, making Kaisa believe that the vehicle had been stolen, his name was studiously avoided by both of them.
‘I’m sure the policeman and woman had a good laugh afterwards. I can’t believe I told them the car had a heart on its bonnet!’ Kaisa said, giggling, remembering how Jeff had drawn the shape of a heart on their small Ford Fiesta after the registry office marriage in Portsmouth. Because Kaisa had neglected to wash the car for weeks afterwards, the heart remained a special feature of the car.
‘Bloody Jeff. I got less money for it because of the corrosion that shaving foam caused!’
‘You sold the Fiesta!’ Kaisa exclaimed and they both laughed again at the sentimental associations of that car.
Towards the end of the meal, when they were both tucking into their puddings – they’d both asked for a creme brûlée, almost simultaneously – Peter grew quiet.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Kaisa said. She was surprised by her boldness, but suddenly thought this was her chance, and if Peter was here to talk about a reconciliation, why shouldn’t she help him out a little? She reached across the table and touched his fingers. ‘You know I regret everything that happened.’
‘Everything?’ Peter said, and hearing the hostility in his voice, the coldness that had made her flee Helensburgh for Helsinki, she removed her hand and looked down at her dessert. The waiter appeared with coffee, and they both thanked him. Kaisa was grateful for the interruption, and when the waiter had gone, she lifted her eyes once more to gauge if Peter’s mood had permanently changed.
‘I am sorry,’ Peter said, ‘and of course I’ve missed you too.’ Peter now took hold of Kaisa’s hand and she had to fight back tears. ‘But we have to make a decision about the future.’
‘What do you mean?’
Peter gave Kaisa a long, kind look, as if to warn her, ‘I want a divorce.’
Twenty-Three
‘How did it go?’ Jackie asked as soon as Peter walked through the entrance at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Fine’ he replied and gave her a light kiss on her mouth.
‘C’mon, did she make a fuss?’
‘Let me have a drink first.’
Jackie was wearing a very short leather skirt, and when she bent down to pick up a glass from the sideboard, Peter could see the tops of her stockings. ‘Gin and tonic OK?’
‘Sure.’
Jackie disappeared into the kitchen, which was just off the large living room in her Chelsea flat. Smiling, she brought in two drinks in heavy cut glass tumblers. Peter took one and swirled the ice cubes and the slice of lemon in the glass to buy some time. He was sitting on a dark burgundy Chesterfield sofa, and Jackie settled herself next to him. She pulled her legs up and curled herself like an attention-seeking cat in the crook of Peter’s arm. Peter could see inside her bra, and enjoyed the view of a pink areola. Now the straps of her suspenders were visible too. Peter put his glass down and ran his fingers along Jackie’s thigh.
‘Not until you tell me everything,’ Jackie said and gently brushed Peter’s hand away. ‘You naughty boy,’ she purred and placed her hand on his groin. He felt himself harden even more.
They had sex on the sofa, fast, and afterwards Jackie said, ‘Really, now you have to tell me.’
She’d been to her bedroom to change into a dressing gown, but she’d kept her stockings on. She knew exactly how to play him, Peter thought, and relaxed back into the sofa. ‘Another drink?’
While Jackie went to fix them a second round of G&Ts, Peter thought how perfect she was for him. Their ‘romance’, as Jackie insisted on calling it, whenever she described their two-month old relationship, began at the Drake Summer Ball. Peter had just come back from London, where Val had practically thrown him out of her house, and he was in no mood for a party. He’d forgotten all about the event, and on the morning of the ball, he had to beg the laundry to clean and iron his Mess Undress shirt in double quick time. When he’d signed up for the ball, he’d decided not to ask Sam to accompany him, although she’d sent him woeful glances right up until the day of the ball. He’d had enough of women for one weekend, so he was going to fly solo for once. Besides, the taste of Kaisa’s mouth was still lingering on his lips.
But he soon changed his mind. He’d spotted Jackie as he sat down at one of the long tables of the wardroom, below the wooden models of 17th-century sailing ships. She was sitting diagonally opposite him, wearing a low-cut dress with a pearl choker around her neck and long black gloves. The dress had no straps, and she was not wearing a bra. When she leaned over, Peter (and every other officer around the table with a view of her chest) could make out the loose, untethered shape of her breasts. When Peter caught her eye, she smiled and held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary. ‘
Game on,’ Peter had thought and sought her out as soon she got up.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ Jackie had said, taking his arm when he reached her at the end of the long table. Peter kissed her lightly on the cheek, and walked her to the ladies. He’d gone to pee himself quickly, and then waited outside the ladies for her. He’d been rewarded with a wide smile, and when they were back in the wardroom, Jackie had organised for Peter to sit next to her for the coffee and port. They’d talked all night, occasionally going for a dance in the disco set up downstairs. They were old friends, after all, Peter thought, but he knew he was really fooling himself. Jackie and he had had a short dalliance when he’d been at Dartmouth, well before Kaisa. She was a catch, everyone kept telling Peter then, but he wasn’t interested. He wanted to be single and free of any ties. His career in the Navy was just beginning, and the stories older naval officers kept telling him about the ‘runs ashore’ when the ship docked at different ports, and skirt was easy to come by, excited him. His future didn’t feature a wife sitting at home, waiting for him to come back from sea. Luckily, he’d already been appointed to his first ship at the time, and had sailed the next day. Jackie and Peter had exchanged a few letters, and had kept in touch even after he’d met Kaisa, but there had never again been more to it than friendship. Peter recalled the breakfast party Jackie had invited Peter and Kaisa to the year before. They’d been so happy and Kaisa had looked gorgeous in her strappy top, which she’d worn without a bra, showing off her lovely figure. All the men at the party had been jealous of him, and that bastard Ducan had been all over Kaisa. Peter brushed away any thoughts of him, and instead thought of how Jackie too had congratulated him on his beautiful new bride. She’d seemed genuinely happy for him then. But, of course, Kaisa had smelled a rat; she knew Peter too well, and on the way home they’d had another argument, this time about Jackie. Peter shook his head when he remembered all their bitter rows, then recalled the way they used to make up in bed afterwards, and sighed. It was no use thinking of Kaisa, she was history now.
At the ball, Jackie had initiated a kiss goodnight with Peter, and he held tightly onto her tiny waist. The trouble was, even though she was short, had dark hair and a large, wide breasts so different from Kaisa’s blonde locks and small pointy breasts, there was something about the curve of her bottom and the smooth skin of her thighs that made Peter think of Kaisa. When they were doing it, he’d close his eyes and pretend he was with his soon-to-be ex-wife.
‘So,’ Jackie now said, handing Peter his second drink, ‘please tell me how it went.’
‘Actually, it was alright.’ Peter said, taking a sip of out of the glass.
‘Yeah?’ Jackie narrowed her dark eyes, which were smudged with makeup, making her look more dirty, and sexy. Her hair was short and wavy, a sort of auburn version of Princess Di’s. She had a very long, slender neck, and she held herself well, displaying her posh background, Peter supposed. It was her class that turned Peter on. For now, although she was from a very different world from his, she was only wearing stockings, suspenders, and expensive French knickers underneath her silk dressing gown, just for his benefit. He knew this posh girl was all his.
‘So she agreed to the divorce?’
‘Well …’
Jackie moved herself away from him. ‘Peter, you did tell her?’
Jackie had been the one to insist on the conversation with Kaisa. Her father was an admiral, and she knew a thing or two about how the Navy worked. She’d said that for his career, the best thing he could do was to get a divorce as soon as possible. ‘You won’t get anywhere if you don’t deal with her,’ she now said. ‘You know that. I talked to Daddy only yesterday …’
Peter sat up on the sofa. ‘What, you talked to your father about me?’
Jackie was playing with the belt of her dressing gown, rolling it up to a tight ball. She wasn’t looking at Peter. ‘I just wanted to hear it from him, you know, to see what his advice would be.’ Jackie lifted her eyes to Peter. ‘He has a lot of experience and has chaired a lot of court martials. He really knows what’s best, so why wouldn’t I ask him?’
Peter slumped back down on the sofa and took a long pull out of his glass. He didn’t want to think back to the court martial, to that awful chilly morning last January. To how unhappy Kaisa had been, to her hopeless tears, to his inability to comfort her. He lit a cigarette and offered Jackie one.
‘No thanks,’ she said.
Peter took a few drags out of his cigarette before he spoke. ‘So, go on, tell me what he said.’
Jackie’s dad had confirmed what Peter already knew. Everyone felt that, though Duncan had behaved despicably in seducing another officer’s wife (here Jackie looked down at her hands, and not at Peter. She knew Peter didn’t like talking about the detail of the events in Helensburgh), Kaisa had also been to blame. There had also been talk in Faslane about Kaisa befriending one of the peace campers, but these rumours were just that, rumours. ‘Still, rumours can bring down a career,’ Jackie’s father had said. He’d concluded that if, as his daughter had told him, Peter was already estranged from his foreign wife, the best thing he could do was to make the state permanent. ‘Forget all about her, put the whole saga down to the hot-headedness of youth and move on,’ was his advice.
When Jackie had finished, the two were silent. Peter lit another cigarette, and listened to the distant noises of the city. Jackie’s flat was in a cul-de-sac of mews houses, and the main thoroughfare was several streets away, so the far-away sound of police sirens reached the flat only occasionally. But now, some poor bugger must be in trouble, Peter thought, as he listened to the wail of sirens disappear into the London night.
‘Well, I told her I want a divorce and she seemed OK about it,’ Peter finally said. He got up and yawned. ‘Bed?’ he said and Jackie nodded.
Twenty-Four
Ravi telephoned Kaisa the next day. She was still in bed when she heard the knock on the door. An older man, Colin, who Kaisa knew lived in the ground floor flat with the landlady, Mrs Carter, stood in his pyjamas and a stripey dressing gown outside her door. ‘Phone for you.’ He seemed angry in his worn out slippers, his grey hair sticking out in all directions. Kaisa suspected it was Colin who hadn’t told her about Peter’s phone call earlier in the summer, and was now annoyed with her because he’d seen her note on the pinboard. She thanked him, put on a jumper over her pyjamas and flip-flops that she wore to go to the bathroom, and hurried down the two floors to the entrance hall.
‘Hello.’ Kaisa was a little out of breath, but she was afraid Peter would give up if she made him wait for too long.
‘Hi, Kaisa. It’s Ravi, I just wanted to phone and see if you are feeling better.’
Kaisa held on to the receiver, trying to think what to say. ‘Hi, Ravi.’
‘Rose told me you weren’t very well?’
‘I’m fine now, feeling a bit weak, that’s all.’
‘I’m glad.’
Kaisa cleared her throat. ‘Thank you for calling,’ she found it difficult to lie, so she said simply, ‘and I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday.’
‘That’s alright. But, I really wanted to see if you’d be up to doing something tonight. Or perhaps on Sunday?’
Kaisa sighed.
‘But don’t worry, if …’
‘Ravi, I’m not feeling quite up to going out yet,’ she said, interrupting him. Now she wasn’t lying. She’d not had a tummy bug, but she wasn’t feeling well after last night.
‘Oh, OK. Take my telephone number in case you change your mind.’
Kaisa hung up and stood in the hall for a moment. Should she have bucked herself up and agreed to see Ravi after all? But she just couldn’t. She needed to be on her own and think. Kaisa walked slowly up the stairs and, once in her room, flung herself on the bed and let the tears flow.
She spent the rest of Saturday morning in Notting Hill Gate Library, a large white-clad stucco building just off Portobello Road, where the market was in full sw
ing. She was helped with her research by an older woman wearing half-moon glasses. ‘I think you might need to consult a lawyer, dear,’ she said to Kaisa after they’d spent more than an hour going through various government information papers.
Kaisa walked home through the throng of people wandering slowly along Portobello Road, browsing the rickety stalls that sold anything from silverware to fresh vegetables. They looked happy and free, talking and laughing with each other. Kaisa couldn’t concentrate on the colourful scene. She felt as if she was in a trance. Just as she had got herself a job, almost a new boyfriend, and had finally accepted during the hour or so spent crying her eyes out that her marriage to Peter was over, her life in London was to be served a final, fatal blow by the British government.
It had occurred to her, as she had lingered in bed that morning, trying to get used to the idea of a divorce from Peter, that if he really wanted to sever their relationship for good, she probably could live with it. She had a new life now, living in London with a job that was worthwhile. Isn’t that what she’d always wanted? The job may not pay as well as it should, but Kaisa was sure she could ask Rose for a pay rise to cover at least some of the money she’d lose from Peter’s monthly allowance. She’d felt bad about taking the money for so long, and it would be a sort of relief for it to stop. They hadn’t discussed money at the restaurant the night before, but it was obvious to her that a divorce meant the allowance would end. She was certain that wasn’t the reason for Peter’s wanting a divorce, but she’d been too shocked to ask him. If she was truthful to herself, she hadn’t wanted to be told he was going to marry the leggy dark-haired girl from the party. But now, thinking about their marriage and how it all came about, Kaisa had remembered that the only reason she had ‘leave to stay in the United Kingdom’, as the stamp on her passport said, was because she was married to an Englishman. What if they divorced? Would her ‘leave to stay’ be removed? The answer from her research at the library was that this was most probably the case.
