The Faithful Heart
Page 23
‘You are not needed as a witness because you’re my wife; you just need to be present,’ Peter had told her. His eyes were dark, and as usual when he spoke with Kaisa these days, they displayed no emotion whatsoever.
‘I’m going to drive,’ Kaisa said to Peter’s back. She could see his image in the mirror, but couldn’t see his eyes under the black peak of his Navy officer’s cap. She thought how handsome he still was, even though he’d lost so much weight. The past few weeks, during the awful state of limbo before the court martial, Kaisa had often coaxed Peter to eat. He’d lost his appetite for food, and life, it seemed. She couldn’t pinpoint the time when he had changed; at first, when the consequences of all her terrible actions had played out, they’d been able to comfort each other. They were like two survivors, thrown together in a sinking ship, bailing out water, fighting together to remain afloat. But slowly, Peter had drifted away from her, into his own shell, into his own world. He’d grown quieter, and wanted to be with her less. Now when Kaisa tried to touch him, he flinched.
Kaisa knew it was the impending court martial that was playing on Peter’s mind, so she let him be. She understood how much his career in the Navy meant to him, and hoped that when the proceedings were over they would find a way to love each other again.
Outside, braving the strong winds whipping up the hill where the grey pebbledash houses of the married quarters stood, Peter looked thin and gaunt. When he removed first his sword and then his cap and placed them carefully on the back seat of the car, Kaisa saw the dark circles around his eyes.
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Kaisa parked on the sloping car park, and pulled up the handbrake hard. Peter winced; he just couldn’t get used to her driving. Not looking at her, Peter got out and picked up his sword from the back seat. He fixed it onto his belt and walked across the small yard towards the entrance of Drumfork Naval Club, a low-slung, 1960s building. It was used as a social space for naval families, and as everything in Helensburgh, was run-down and grey-looking. Peter noticed the ice on the ground too late and slipped on the steps.
‘You OK?’ he heard Kaisa say behind him, but he didn’t have the energy to reply to her. Instead, he cursed under his breath and took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the palm of his hand. There were a few spots of blood. ‘Fuck,’ he said out loud. Glancing down, he saw his uniform trousers had escaped the worst of it and still looked crisp and smart; they still had the deep creases he’d ironed into them that morning.
Inside, it was even colder than on the windswept hill. Peter rubbed his hands together, keeping the hankie between them in an attempt to stem the blood, which was dribbling out of the fleshier part of his right palm. He nodded to the same Wren who’d shown him into Himmler’s office three weeks before. She didn’t smile as she stood up from the grey plastic chair she’d been sitting on, but her eyes had a kindness to them. Peter moved his face away from hers. During the past weeks he’d heard nothing but condolences, people saying how sorry they were. He didn’t need their sympathy – he needed this to be over and to get back to work. Even Kaisa had nothing but sorrow in her eyes and Peter couldn’t stand it. What he needed was anger; he needed people to understand how angry he was. Angry at Kaisa, angry at Duncan, angry at the Navy for posting him and his new, young, pretty wife to this God-forsaken arsehole of a place, angry at Scotland and the bloody Jocks complaining in their harsh accents, angry at the drab, ugly married quarters on the hillside, overlooking the steely cold Gareloch, angry at himself for being so stupid as to care that his wife had slept with someone else. He put his handkerchief back into his pocket and told himself to calm down.
The door behind him opened and his lawyer, who had been to see Peter at home, shook his and Kaisa’s hand. Peter flinched; the stone steps had grazed his palm and even though the bleeding had stopped it still hurt.
‘You OK?’ The guy, who was probably only a few years older than Peter, asked.
Peter looked at his hand. ‘Yeah.’
The lawyer nodded and turned to Kaisa.
‘Perhaps, Mrs Williams, you’d like to go in. Sit at the front – they need to see you together.’
Kaisa nodded and went inside.
When they’d met previously, the lawyer had also immediately said how sorry he was about the ‘incident’ as he called it. Lawrence Currie was a lieutenant like Peter, but he’d studied law in Edinburgh and had a slight Scottish lilt when he spoke. The accent had put Peter off him at first, but he’d warmed to the man when he’d told Peter that the court martial would ‘run its course whatever you or I may think.’ He’d said that the panel would have decided what the outcome would be even before Peter stepped inside the room. ‘So the best thing is to stand there, reply to any questions as quickly and briefly as possible and get out. You can then get on with the rest of your life.’
‘Yes and No responses are the best,’ he’d added.
Now Lieutenant Currie motioned for Peter to go and sit at the far end of the room. Out of the earshot of the Wren, Peter supposed.
‘We’ve got a little time to go over everything,’ the lawyer started.
He told Peter that he should plead guilty to assault. ‘I will then bring in the mitigating circumstances of you being back from your first patrol, the wee shite, whom you’d considered to be a friend, taking advantage of your pretty, foreign wife, and so on.’
Peter nodded. He wasn’t looking at the lawyer, but was hanging his head. He was trying not to let the anger rise again.
‘Are you OK?’ the lawyer asked, again, touching Peter’s arm.
Peter looked up. ‘I’m not pleading guilty.’
The lawyer was silent for a moment, then sighed and said, ‘I strongly advise you to throw yourself at the mercy of the court. They will have sympathy for you.’
Peter moved his eyes away from Lawrence.
The lawyer sighed again. ‘Now, don’t forget they will take your sword from you. It means as an officer, you are placing your rank, status and reputation on hold for the duration of the proceedings.’
Peter nodded. ‘When are we going in?’
‘Any minute now. But there’s something else I need to tell you. There will be reporters outside with cameras. One is from the local rag, Helensburgh Advertiser, but there are also the nationals: Daily Mail, the Sun and the Telegraph.’
Peter put his head in his hands. He thought about his parents, his brother in London, and his sister. They’d all read about his stupid actions, and now they would have to explain it to their friends. Until now he’d been something of a local hero in Wiltshire; his achievements in cricket during his school years had often been written about in the Wiltshire Times, and when he passed out from Dartmouth, there’d been a long article about it in the same local paper. That was partly because Prince Andrew had graduated at the same time, so the Queen had also been there. Still, it was a picture of Peter in the freshly pressed naval officer’s uniform that had appeared inside the paper. Even when he’d married Kaisa, his mother had sent in a wedding picture of them to the paper, which had printed it with the caption ‘Local submarine officer, RN, marries a girl from Finland.’ Now they would have something far juicier to write about. Would they dig out the picture of him and Kaisa on their wedding day? Suddenly a phrase he’d often heard came to his mind: ‘There’s a touch of the pirate about every man who wears the Dolphins.’ He grinned and recalled when he had caught the Dolphins, the badge of the submarine service, between his teeth from a glass of rum. It was an old Royal Navy right of passage on qualification and proved that submariners were a bit wild. He immediately regretted such thoughts and straightened his face. Then the door opened and he was loudly called in by a Naval Provost.
To continue reading, get your copy of The Good Heart today.
Also by Helena Halme
The Nordic Heart Series:
The Young Heart (Prequel)
The English Heart (Book 1)
The Faithful Heart (Book 2)
The Good Heart (Book 3
)
The True Heart (Book 4)
The Nordic Heart Box Set (Books 1-4)
The Christmas Heart (Book 5)
Love on the Island Series:
The Island Affair (Book 1)
* * *
Coffee and Vodka: A Nordic Family Drama
The Red King in Helsinki: Lies, Spies and Gymnastics
* * *
Nonfiction books:
Write Your Story: Turn Life Into Fiction in 10 Easy Steps
Write in Another Language in 10 Easy Steps
About the Author
Helena Halme grew up in Tampere, central Finland, and moved to the UK via Stockholm and Helsinki at the age of 22. She is a former BBC journalist and has also worked as a magazine editor, a bookseller and, until recently, ran a Finnish/British cultural association in London.
Since gaining an MA in Creative Writing at Bath Spa University, Helena has published seven fiction titles, including five in The Nordic Heart Romance Series.
Helena lives in North London with her ex-Navy husband and an old stubborn terrier, called Jerry. She loves Nordic Noir and sings along to Abba songs when no one is around.
You can read Helena’s blog at www.helenahalme.com, where you can also sign up for her Readers’ Group.
Find Helena Halme online
www.helenahalme.com
hello@helenahalme.com
Acknowledgments
As always my thanks and gratitude go to my family, especially David who has once again encouraged me and supported me in writing this novel. I am also grateful for my two tireless editors, Robin Pridy and Dorothy Stannard. I’d also like to thank Adam Peters for all his invaluable advice with all matters concerning the Royal Navy. It goes without saying that all mistakes intentional or not, are entirely down to me, or required for fictional purposes.
* * *
All characters and events featured in this book are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any person, organisation, place or thing living or dead, or event or place, is purely coincidental and completely unintentional.
Copyright
The Faithful Heart ©2017 Helena Halme
Published worldwide 2017 by Newhurst Press
Second e-book edition 2017
This novel has previously been published under the title
The Navy Wife
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, Newhurst Press, at the email address below.
Cover Design © Jessica Bell
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Published by Newhurst Press
ISBN 978-1-9998929-2-0
All enquiries to hello@helenahalme.com
Also by Helena Halme
Love on the Island
The Island Affair
The Nordic Heart Romance Series
The Young Heart
The English Heart
The Faithful Heart
The Good Heart
The True Heart
The Christmas Heart
The Nordic Heart Series Books 1-4
Standalone
Coffee and Vodka
The Red King of Helsinki: Lies, Spies and Gymnastics
Watch for more at Helena Halme’s site.