The Faithful Heart

by Helena Halme

  ‘Are you alright?’ she said, but she was pushed away by two provost ratings, who wrapped a blanket over Peter and led him away.

  ‘Best you clear the pool, ma’am,’ one of them said to Kaisa over his shoulder.

  Neither Peter nor Duncan resisted the bulky provost ratings. When the large hall was empty, Kaisa realised she was shivering. She held onto herself and wondered what she was supposed to do. She walked towards the door where they had taken Peter and Duncan, but then realised it was the men’s changing rooms; besides she was still in her swimming costume. Kaisa ran in the opposite direction and slipped on the wet tiles. When she got up, she realised she’d cut her knee. In the changing rooms, she dressed quickly, put a piece of toilet roll on her bleeding knee, and walked out of the pool. It was still raining, and Kaisa began shivering again. She made her way to the Wardroom lower down the base, but was stopped at the entrance.

  ‘How can I help you?’ said the man behind the desk. He had thin dark hair that was combed to one side, covering a bald patch. At that point Nigel walked out of the back bar and came over to Kaisa. He touched Kaisa’s arm and said softly, ‘Kaisa, would you like me to drive you home?’

  ‘No. Where’s Peter?’

  ‘Listen, Kaisa, would you like a cup of tea?’

  Kaisa looked at Nigel’s hand, which was resting on her arm. ‘No, Nigel, I would not like a bloody cup of tea. I want to know where my husband is!’ She’d raised her voice. The man behind the desk coughed, and inclined his head towards the Captain, who’d walked into the hallway and was now standing behind Nigel. Nigel turned around and, touching his forehead, said, ‘Sir!’ Kaisa saw the Captain wore many more gold braids on his jumper than Peter or Nigel did. He nodded to Nigel and stretched his hand towards Kaisa. She had already guessed this was the Captain, although she’d not met him before the submarine sailed. Peter had told her she would meet him after they got back from Wiltshire. The Captain’s wife usually had a dinner party for officers and their wives at some point during the men’s time ashore.

  ‘How do you do, I’m Kaisa Williams.’

  ‘Now, my dear, Peter is being calmed down and his, hmm, injuries are being looked at. As soon as we think it’s safe for him to go, you can take him home. If you like, you can wait here.’ The Captain pointed at the table and chairs by the entrance to the Wardroom.

  ‘Thank you,’ Kaisa said in the most dignified voice she could muster.

  Thirty-Six

  Peter was shivering by the time the provost had got him to sit down in the sickbay waiting room. He didn’t know if it was the cold, or the rage draining from him. He could hear Duncan in the examining room on the other side of the door answering the nurse’s questions with a monosyllabic, ‘Yes,’ or ‘No’. Hearing his voice, Peter balled his hands into fists. He winced with a sharp pain, which came from his right shoulder and hand. Looking down, he saw there were red marks on his knuckles. Suddenly Peter felt exhausted, and nauseous. He shifted a little in his seat, which made the provost sitting opposite him get up.

  ‘It’s OK, I’m calm,’ he said, and the expressionless man nodded in reply and sat down again.

  Peter heard steps along the corridor and, as soon as he spotted the Captain, he got up and saluted him, a gesture that made him flinch with pain again.

  The Captain stood in front of him and for a moment just stared at him, saying nothing. His new captain was a fair-haired man with pale eyes. He had an acute sense of right and wrong. At sea, he demanded absolute commitment and didn’t tolerate any kind of squabbles between his men onboard. Peter liked him, and after the long patrol they’d just been on, considered him a great leader. He wanted to be just like him one day. And now here Peter was, in front of the Captain, with his head lowered in shame.

  ‘I’m surprised at you, Peter.’ The Captain’s voice was a low murmur, like thunder before the crash of lightning.

  ‘Sir,’ Peter lifted his eyes and looked squarely at him.

  Again the Captain just stood there, glaring at Peter. At that moment, the door to the sickbay opened and Duncan stepped out. He had his right arm in a sling.

  ‘You’d better go in. I’ll speak with you later.’ The Captain marched back down the corridor.

  Peter didn’t look at Duncan, and passed him without acknowledging his presence. If he never again set eyes on the bastard, he’d be happy.

  After the nurse had checked Peter over, and bandaged his hand, he was led by the provost to an office where the Captain stood waiting outside the closed door.

  ‘Sir, I’m very sorry,’ Peter said and saluted him.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect this from a junior rate, Peter, and you know we cannot tolerate this kind of thing.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  The Captain’s face softened just a little when he continued, ‘I know there may have been extenuating circumstances, but this kind of behaviour is unheard of. You are a good, young officer with a long career ahead of you. Don’t let your wife spoil that for you. As it is, you are in deep shit now, and I’m not sure I can get you out.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’ Peter knew he should be angry with Kaisa, but now all the rage had deserted him. All he wanted was to get this over and done with and go home to her. ‘Peter, you’re a fucking fool,’ he thought to himself.

  The Captain sighed, and began pacing the corridor outside the office. Peter stood as still as he could, holding onto his cap. He was still cold, but he’d stopped shivering, perhaps it was something to do with the painkillers the nurse had given him for the hand and his sore shoulder.

  Soon, a slightly built Wren opened the door. She smiled at Peter, and he thought, fleetingly, that she’d probably not had so much excitement in years. She was a good sort, with a father and a brother in skimmers. She showed Peter and his captain into the office of the Captain of the Base. Peter had never been inside before, and was taken aback by the view out of the wide window. It felt as if they were suspended above the base, with its submarines in dock, and the Gareloch beyond. The office was dominated by a vast desk, behind which sat the Base Captain. He was an older man, with wisps of grey hair slicked back from his forehead. He wore a pair of rimless spectacles, earning him the nickname Himmler among the staff at the naval base.

  On their side of the desk stood Duncan. He was motionless, looking ahead of him at Himmler.

  ‘Officers fighting at the base!’ Himmler boomed. ‘I have a loony bin of a peace camp opposite; I do not need to be sorting out two officers who are behaving like rutting stags!’

  ‘No, Sir,’ Duncan and Peter said in unison.

  ‘This kind of thing cannot and will not happen on my base.’ Himmler said, now addressing the captain of Peter’s sub.

  ‘No, Sir,’ he replied, and added. ‘There are some circumstances which might explain my junior officer’s behaviour …’

  But Himmler cut him short, ‘I’ve got to deal with a senior rate who’s been exposing himself in Helensburgh waterfront car park. There’s talk of increased demos by the loonies down the road. I don’t have time for a spoilt frustrated wife. Get a fucking grip, Williams, and get her stowed away. I’m supposed to be running the country’s nuclear deterrent, not a bloody marriage counselling service.’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Peter said.

  Himmler turned to Duncan, ‘And you, I want you to understand that I have nothing but contempt for what you did to a fellow officer. They are not the actions of someone who holds a Queen’s Commission. And now get the fuck out of my sight. You’d better be off the base by tonight, and make sure I never set eyes on you again.’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Duncan replied, saluting Himmler and Peter’s captain. He gave Peter a brief look and left the room, followed by one of the provosts, who had been sitting on chairs along the back wall of the office. Peter felt a shiver run down his spine, a surge of the anger that had made him seek out Duncan as soon he’d heard the bastard was on the base. Peter concentrated on his breathing and on the view of the Gareloch outside the window. If he didn�
�t keep calm now, he could certainly wave his career goodbye – if it wasn’t over already.

  ‘What happens to you both will be decided, but you, Williams, you’ll be getting it big time.’

  ‘Understood, Sir.’

  ‘Now fuck off out of my office.’ Himmler turned around in his chair to look at the view. Peter glanced at his captain, and said, ‘Thank you, Sir.’

  The Captain led Peter away from the office and told the provost he’d take care of him now.

  ‘You heard what the Captain said.’ Peter’s captain’s expression was a little softer now. ‘I will try to make your case, but I fear the worst.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir,’ Peter replied. He was now hanging his head. ‘A court martial?’ he asked.

  The Captain sighed, ‘God knows we don’t need the publicity. With the campers opposite, and the general mood of the country, the press will love this.’ He looked at Peter. ‘But, you know it’s probably around the base by now, the ratings will all know, so it will be difficult to avoid one.’

  ‘Right, Sir,’ Peter said.

  For a moment both men stood still in the corridor, looking at their feet.

  ‘Go home now. You’re on leave as from now, understood? Your pretty wife is waiting for you in the entrance. And for God’s sake, stow her away as the Captain said, eh? Right now she’s a bloody liability.’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Peter replied. He saluted the Captain and walked along the long set of corridors towards the Officers’ Mess.

  Thirty-Seven

  Kaisa had to wait for nearly two hours before Peter emerged, bandaged up and looking sheepish from a door at the far end of the lobby. During that time she had had three cups of weak coffee, which the man with the greased back hair brought her. The Captain had disappeared almost as soon as Kaisa had sat down, but before he left he’d said to the caretaker, ‘Make sure Mrs Williams has everything she needs.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea, love?’ the man asked as soon as both the Captain and Nigel had left. Kaisa shook her head and said, after some hesitation, ‘I don’t drink tea.’

  ‘Oh,’ the man replied and looked quizzically at Kaisa as if she was somehow deranged. ‘I only drink coffee,’ she added with a sigh.

  ‘Ay, ay, coffee coming right up!’ The man went off to a side room that led to a small kitchen. He seemed relieved that he could bring her something, so perhaps he wasn’t as unfriendly as Kaisa had first thought.

  * * *

  When Kaisa saw Peter, she got up and went over to him. He was accompanied by Nigel, who nodded to Kaisa and said to Peter, ‘Anything you need, mate, just give me a ring, yeah?’

  ‘Are you OK?’ Kaisa asked and Peter nodded, although he didn’t look at her. His hand was wrapped up, and he had a cut on his lower lip. He was wearing his greatcoat over his jumper, and with his shoulders hunched and his eyes red, he looked like an old sea dog.

  ‘Just drive me home,’ he said and marched out of the door. Kaisa gathered up her coat, and sports bag, and hurried after him.

  On the way home, Peter was quiet and, closing his eyes, adopted the same position he had on the way to the base a few hours earlier, with his cap covering half of his face. How their lives had changed in that short time! Kaisa felt so nervous, not knowing what Peter was thinking (was he angry or ashamed?) that she stalled the car twice going up the hill leading away from the base. At the gate, where the guard had to check their papers, Kaisa nearly flooded the engine. As the two military policemen inside the booth opened the gate, they gave Kaisa a long stare, which made her try to start the car in first gear and stall again.

  ‘For goodness sake,’ Peter said, and Kaisa nearly burst into tears, but finally she got the car started. The drive to their married quarters at Smuggler’s Way was the longest journey she’d ever made. When they passed the peace camp, she didn’t dare to look in the direction of the camper vans and colourful banners. She just kept her eyes on the road, occasionally wiping away the tears that were running freely down her face.

  When Kaisa parked outside the house, Peter got out and winced as his arm touched the doorframe. Kaisa went over to him and asked if she could help.

  ‘No,’ he said and waited for her to open the door to the house. Inside he let her help him get his coat off over the bandaged hand.

  ‘Is your shoulder hurt?’ Kaisa asked when he winced again.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Peter said and laid himself gingerly on the sofa. Kaisa went to take his boots off, which he allowed her to do, but he kept his eyes away from her. She fetched a blanket they’d received as a present but, looking at the blue-and-green tartan, she suddenly remembered the gift had come from Duncan and decided against it. She fetched a single duvet from the guest bedroom instead. By the time she was back downstairs, Peter was fast asleep. Clutching the bulky duvet, she sat down opposite Peter. He looked rugged. Although he’d shaved that morning, already, only a few hours later, he had dark stubble on his chin. His hair was tousled; he’d not had time for a hair cut since coming home, and Kaisa could see the dark hairs curling at the back of his neck. The cut on his lip looked a little swollen, but this only made him look more handsome. Oh, how Kaisa loved him. Why didn’t she always remember this, and realise how lucky she was to be married to the man she loved? And such an attractive man, too. Not only was he darkly handsome, with long black eyelashes framing his dark-green eyes, but he was tall and slim, with muscular arms. Everyone else Kaisa knew, including Duncan, paled in comparison to Peter. Not one of the officers on board Tempest, or Restless, nor anyone else she’d ever met, was as good-looking as her husband. So what if he didn’t always understand her need for a career of her own? Or her doubts about his profession? Weren’t these things that they, as a newly married couple could, and would, naturally, work on together? Kaisa suddenly felt like laughing when she thought back to the fight in the pool. It had been like a scene from a film! That Peter, who’d never been jealous, would hit another man, was quite a show of emotion. He obviously cared, Kaisa thought, and she immediately felt ashamed of her self-centredness. The last thing she wanted was for her love, Peter, to be hurt, or for anyone to be hurt by him. She tiptoed closer to Peter and gently covered him with the duvet. As she tucked the corners carefully around Peter’s face, he opened his eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ Kaisa said.

  ‘So am I,’ Peter replied. ‘C’mon, give me a kiss.’

  Kaisa knelt down beside her husband and gently kissed his lips, trying to avoid the cut, but Peter didn’t seem to mind. He put his good arm around Kaisa and squeezed her hard towards him. She closed her eyes. She felt safe in Peter’s arms.

  Would you like to read on?

  Would you like a bonus chapter from The Faithful Heart?

  The exclusive, unpublished chapter is from the middle of the book and takes you to the assignation between Kaisa and Duncan. It’s quite steamy, so be warned!

  * * *

  Click here to get your free, exclusive bonus chapter!

  A Note from the Author

  I hope you enjoyed The Faithful Heart.

  * * *

  You may have heard authors talk about reviews and the effect they have on the success of the title.

  Having a bunch of good reviews attached to your book has been likened to a scene in a new town when you’re looking for somewhere to eat. The restaurant you’ve read about has a queue outside. You notice another place opposite with the same kind of food on offer. But this restaurant is nearly empty, with only a couple of tables occupied, and no queue outside. Which place do you choose? Most people join the queue, because why wouldn’t you go for a restaurant that is so popular that people are willing to wait to eat there? The other place opposite must serve really bad food if only a handful of diners are inside, right? Perhaps it’s had a case of food poisoning or something.

  So please form a virtual queue outside my book on Amazon or Goodreads and write a review.

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Helensburgh, Scotland
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  It was a cold morning, on 30th January 1985. There was no rain, and Kaisa could just about make out the faint outline of the sun in the distance, low above the Gareloch. The sight of the opaque light behind a thin layer of cloud made Kaisa feel oddly optimistic. She held on tightly to the cup of coffee she’d brewed and inhaled the familiar, comforting smell. She had decided she would drive them to the community centre on the Churchill Estate, on the other side of Helensburgh, where the court martial was to be held. It was only a quarter past eight, and Peter was already wearing his full uniform, with sword; he looked very smart.

  ‘Do you want something else before we go? More tea, or water?’ Kaisa asked. She saw Peter’s straight back through the open kitchen door. He was standing in front of the mirror in the hall, adjusting his cap. Without turning to look at her, or speaking, he shook his head.

  Peter hadn’t wanted her to come to the court. But his lawyer, Lawrence, had told them Kaisa needed to be there to show the court that they were a happy couple. Kaisa had recoiled from the phrase. She didn’t know what happiness was anymore.

  That morning she’d dressed in the black trouser suit that she kept for job interviews, with an off-white roll-neck jumper inside the jacket for warmth. Pammy, her friend on the married patch, and the only Navy wife who still talked to her, had said it was bitterly cold at the community centre, and that they might have to wait around outside for hours before the proceedings started. Kaisa didn’t ask how her friend was so knowledgeable. She wondered if the waiting around was part of the punishment, but there’d been very little information about the day; just the one letter summoning Peter to the court martial at 10 am.