The Good Heart Read online

  Kaisa moved away from the group, and lit a cigarette. It was a warm June night, and she was glad she’d worn the new gypsy dress that left her shoulders bare. Still, she felt hot, so she moved towards the large windows to get some air and cool down. It was when she looked out onto the street below that she saw them. Or him.

  It couldn’t be him, surely. Kaisa’s eyes must be playing tricks on her. Or could it? Kaisa leaned further over the open window and stretched her neck for a better view of the two people who stood in the spot below the streetlight. Kaisa froze when she saw it really was Peter. He was holding the hand of a slight, dark-haired girl. ‘Jackie?’ Kaisa thought with mounting horror. Peter was wearing jeans and a cotton shirt, and the girl wore a pretty little flower-patterned dress. It wasn’t Jackie after all. My, the man moves fast, Kaisa thought, but she immediately reproached herself – hadn’t she tried to have sex with Tom? And tonight, she was on the lookout, whether she admitted it or not. On her feet, the unknown girl wore cowboy boots. The look suited her. Although she couldn’t fully see their faces, Kaisa could hear Peter and the girl laughing as they stepped inside the door.

  What was Peter, a naval officer, doing in an artsy party in London? Kaisa panicked, and wanted to flee. But she knew Peter and the girl must now be coming up the stairs. Kaisa scanned the vast space for an exit sign, or another entrance. Suddenly she heard a group coming through a door behind her. She put her cigarette out, slipped past them and climbed a steel staircase onto the roof of the building. She was out of breath when she reached the roof. She’d been so flustered, she hadn’t counted the number of floors. When she reached the roof, she noticed that someone had put cushions on the ledges to make temporary seats. Kaisa scanned the area, but couldn’t see anyone there. The noise of traffic and the hum of people standing outside a pub a few streets away drifted towards Kaisa. Sighing with relief, she sat down on the nearest seat. She needed to think. For whatever reason, Peter was at the party, and whoever that pretty girl was, Kaisa didn’t want to see either of them. At least it wasn’t Jackie, Kaisa thought; still, she fought back tears when she thought about Peter and this new girl. Really she shouldn’t have been surprised. Even before they were married, Kaisa had to fight off the girls vying for Peter’s attention. She’d known that he’d moved on as Pammy’s letter had indicated. His letters containing her allowance were as short as ever. Kaisa felt bad about continuing to accept Peter’s money, but her salary was so small she needed the extra cash to survive in London. When she’d told Rose about Peter’s allowance, Rose had said, ‘You’re still married, he has a duty to support you.’ Kaisa felt that was a little hypocritical, but didn’t want to say so to Rose; besides, she was sure her boss would come up with a perfectly well thought-out reason for Kaisa still being entitled to some of Peter’s money. Something to do with the inequality in wages, Kaisa supposed. To her surprise, when Kaisa had told Peter about her new address, he hadn’t commented on her move to London. She hadn’t told him about Adam’s Apple, just that she’d got a job working on a magazine. Peter hadn’t even asked if she was working for Sonia, so he was obviously utterly uninterested in Kaisa’s life. Kaisa realised she’d been hoping that he was simply still angry, and that with time he’d come around. How foolish she’d been! It was obvious he wasn’t in the least bit concerned about Kaisa; as long as he paid her off each month, his conscience was clear. Kaisa could feel the familiar anger surge inside her. How was it possible even after all these months of not seeing him, and having a new, meaningful career (in London!), and after all they’d been through, that Peter could still ignite such emotion in her?

  Kaisa shivered in the balmy air of the June night. She needed to think rationally. She would have to leave the party soon, but she needed to be sure she could slip out without being seen by Peter and his new girlfriend. Just thinking that thought made Kaisa feel short of breath. As she gasped for air, she told herself to calm down.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Kaisa hadn’t noticed that the door to the roof space had opened, but she recognised his voice immediately. She got up and looked at Peter. He had put on some weight, she saw, but it suited him. His arms looked more muscular under his striped cotton shirt, and his face even more angular. He stood in the doorway, which made his hair and eyes look darker against the light coming from the stairwell below. He moved towards Kaisa and got a packet of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ Kaisa managed to say. With shaking hands, she took a Marlboro Light out of the packet Peter offered her, and waited for him to find his zippo lighter. As if in a dream, she put the cigarette to her lips and bent down to catch the flame from the lighter between Peter’s cupped hands. She saw the zippo had a ship’s crest on it and guessed it must be that of HMS Orion. Kaisa pulled a drag and watched Peter light his own cigarette.

  ‘How are you,’ Peter asked, his face showing no emotion.

  Suddenly Kaisa’s knees felt weak, and she sat back down on the raised bit of the roof. ‘I’m fine.’

  Now Peter grinned at her, ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  Kaisa looked at him in surprise; it was as if the old Peter was back. ‘Yeah, I wasn’t expecting you either.’

  Peter took a seat next to Kaisa, and for a moment they sat side by side, smoking their cigarettes.

  ‘So how is life in the big city?’ Peter asked, turning his face towards Kaisa.

  She told him about Adam’s Apple, and about her bedsit in Notting Hill.

  ‘A feminist magazine, eh? That must suit you down to the ground.’ Kaisa could hear the bitterness in his voice.

  Kaisa took a deep drag on the cigarette. ‘Yeah, Rose got me the job. She’s invested a lot of money in it and wanted me to help her.’

  Peter’s mouth was a straight line. ‘That’s cosy.’ He got up and, with his back to her, gazed across the London skyline. Kaisa spoke to his back, ‘Really, Peter, you must believe me, he’s the last person in the world I want to see. And Rose has been very good to me. I haven’t seen him and Rose isn’t speaking to him either. She thinks what he did was despicable.’

  Peter gazed down at her, and Kaisa noticed his eyes looked sad. ‘He still writes to you, though, doesn’t he?’

  Kaisa’s heart raced. So it had been Peter who had forwarded Duncan’s letter to her in Helsinki. She could feel tears well up inside, but she controlled herself. ‘I had nothing to do with that.’

  Peter turned around and sat next to her again. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I tore it up, and wouldn’t dream of writing back to him. I have no feelings – apart from anger – towards him.’ Kaisa had placed her hand on Peter’s arm. Looking down at it, Peter said, ‘You and me both.’ She quickly took her hand away and the two sat side by side, watching the view over nighttime London in silence. There was an office building opposite, all its windows dark apart from one.

  ‘Someone’s working overtime,’ Kaisa said, and stubbed out her cigarette on the lead roof.

  ‘Or having it off with the boss,’ Peter said, flicking his cigarette over the edge of the roof.

  Kaisa turned her head towards Peter. ‘Sorry, bad joke, in the circumstances,’ he said. He was smiling, and nudged Kaisa. She also laughed and they sat quietly for a few moments more, then spoke at the same time.

  ‘I wanted to …’ said Kaisa. ‘Perhaps I should …’ said Peter.

  ‘You go first,’ Kaisa laughed.

  They argued for a while about who should speak first, and Kaisa felt the awkwardness diminish by the second. ‘No, you go, no you …’ Eventually Peter spoke. ‘Look Kaisa, I was wondering if we should talk about the future.’

  ‘Yes, I was thinking the same.’

  ‘Go on.’ Peter’s voice was soft and kind, and his eyes had the familiar tender look in them. She wanted to lean across and put her head on his shoulder and ask for his forgiveness. But the image of Peter with the unknown girl laughing on the street below reminded her that he was no longer hers
.

  ‘I am not earning as much as I’d like. The magazine isn’t really making money yet, so,’ she began.

  ‘It’s OK, you’re still my wife. I’ll carry on helping you as long as you want.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kaisa said.

  ‘It’s OK.’ Peter put his hand on Kaisa’s knee. Kaisa looked up at him and before she could say anything, Peter had put his lips on hers. His kiss was urgent, and he placed his arms around Kaisa. She relaxed into his embrace. Her heart was pounding.

  Kaisa wasn’t sure if she saw the girl first, or felt her punch Peter in the back.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’

  The dark-haired girl was standing in front of them, with her hands on her hips, staring at Peter and Kaisa, who’d detached herself from Peter and was staring back at the girl. Peter quickly stood up, ‘Look Val, this is,’

  ‘I don’t care who the hell she is! I leave you alone for a minute, and you sneak up here and make out with a bloody …’ The girl gave Kaisa a look up and down, and continued, ‘a bloody blonde bimbo!’

  Kaisa couldn’t help herself, and let out a short laugh, or more like a snort. A bimbo, her? She looked at Peter to see what he would say, or do. Surely he would tell the girl to F off? Surely the kiss meant they were back together, or at least they’d try to patch things up again? Or?

  Peter took the girl into his arms, and even though she resisted at first, she soon gave in and listened to Peter’s words: ‘Look, it meant nothing. Kaisa is my ex, and one thing led to another …’

  Kaisa stared at the pair in front of her. Did she hear Peter correctly? It meant nothing! Kaisa got up and ran through the open door and down the stairs. When she reached the floor where the party was, she heard Peter’s voice call out behind her, but she ignored it and ran through the room and down the stairs again. It wasn’t until she was sitting at the back of a black cab that she let herself cry.

  Twenty

  Peter got a first class ticket back to Plymouth because he just didn’t have the patience to share a compartment with sailors he knew, as he had on the way up to London. He wanted to read the Telegraph and think how he could untangle himself from the web of women he’d become caught up in.

  First there was Sam. Sex with the soft-skinned Wren was very satisfying, and she was always available. She was also kind, and cared for him, as he’d found out during an awful night when Peter had come back to the base from the GX alone. They’d bumped into each other in the corridor. He was very drunk, could hardly stand up, but Sam put his arm around her slender shoulders and quietly guided him into the correct cabin, undressed him and even brought him a glass of water and a bucket from the bathrooms, in case he was sick later. To be truthful, Peter didn’t remember all that was said, but the next morning, when he woke up with the most awful hangover and tried to piece together the events of the previous night, he knew he’d poured his heart out to her. He remembered how he’d tried to take her clothes off for a quickie, and she’d just laughed and said, ‘Another time, darling Peter.’

  It was that word, ‘Darling’ that had unsettled him. Following that drunken night, he’d only been with her once or twice. He’d tried to play it cool with Sam, to show her that it wasn’t serious. He’d told her from the start that his life was too complicated for a relationship, so she must know. But she was there, always around at the base. They still greeted each other in the wardroom, but he saw the yearning in her eyes, and as much as he liked the girl, he couldn’t cope with that. It was difficult because the refit on HMS Orion kept overrunning; they should have sailed weeks ago. Now he was single again, he relished the time away at sea. It was different before, when it had meant leaving Kaisa.

  Kaisa.

  Thinking about Kaisa turned his thoughts immediately to Val. For some reason, he felt guilty about his affair with the young student. He was a little older than her, that was true, but only by a couple of years. It wasn’t as if he was cradle snatching!

  Sex with Val was a different thing altogether. Once, when they’d managed to sneak into her room at her parents’ place in Plymouth (Peter hadn’t met them and had no intention of doing so), Val had bitten his nipple during sex. Because they’d needed to be quiet, Peter couldn’t cry out, even though the pain had seared through him, taking him by surprise. Somehow, that had made it better, though. There was plenty of passion with Val, and just thinking about her in the empty carriage, with the motion of the train gently rocking his body, Peter felt himself harden.

  But she’d not let him back into her bed since she’d surprised him with Kaisa on the roof. Peter had to plead with her just to let him back into the house in Earl’s Court, and then she’d made him sleep on the sofa in the lounge on the second floor. He’d had a disturbed night, with various residents of the house coming in at different times. Waking early, he had tried to call Kaisa on the number she’d given him in one of her long letters. He wanted to hear her voice, and was surprised to find she wasn’t at home. Did she have someone else too? Someone she’d run to after kissing him? Peter waited for half an hour for her to ring back, but when the telephone in the hall remained silent, he snuck back into Val’s bedroom upstairs and gathered his things. She was sprawled on her bed, wearing just her T-shirt. Her feet were protruding from under the blanket that covered the lower part of her body. From the contour of the thin covering, Peter could make out her feminine shape and remembered the small patch of dark hair between her legs. He could see her small breasts poking out from underneath her T-shirt. It took all his willpower to control himself and not take her into his arms. When he was at the door, he went back and kissed her forehead. Her lips were pink, and her eyelashes dark against her pale skin. He touched her cheek, but Val just murmured and turned her head away. He left the room on tiptoe and made his way to Paddington.

  Twenty-One

  On the Sunday after the party, Kaisa stayed in bed as long as she could. By twelve o’clock she couldn’t read anymore, and decided to go and get a newspaper and then telephone Rose to explain why she’d left without saying goodbye. There was a telephone fixed to the wall on the ground floor of the house, and as she lifted the heavy black receiver she saw her name, or a version of it, written on a folded piece of paper, stuck with a red pin on the noticeboard. It was the custom at the house, which contained five bedsits, to leave telephone messages on the board. Once again, whoever had taken the message hadn’t bothered to come up the stairs to find her, nor could they spell her name correctly. Kaisa sighed and read the message.

  ‘Keesi, someone posh called Peter left a message to call him back.’ There was a London number below. On the spur of the moment, Kaisa lifted the receiver and dialled the number.

  She had to wait five or six rings before anyone answered. ‘Hello?’

  Kaisa recognised the voice straight away. Surprising herself with her gumption, she said, ‘Can I speak with Peter, please?’

  There was a short silence at the other end. ‘Who’s calling?’ Val said.

  ‘It’s Peter’s wife.’

  ‘Just a minute.’

  Kaisa held the receiver with both hands and waited.

  After a while, Val came back to the telephone and said, ‘Sorry, he’s not in.’

  ‘But …’ Kaisa began, but Val had already put the phone down at the other end, and all Kaisa could hear was the long tone of an empty line. He hadn’t wanted to speak to her after all! Kaisa sat down on the rickety chair that the landlady had placed next to the phone, and thought for a moment. Had Peter’s kiss been a reflex, a habit he’d not been able to shake off? Didn’t it mean anything after all? Had it been a mistake, just as he’d told the girl, Val? Kaisa imagined the scene at the other end of the line: Val going to tell Peter that his wife was calling, and Peter shaking his head. Perhaps they were now in bed, laughing at Kaisa’s eagerness to get back together with him? Kaisa shook her head. If that was the case, why had he phoned her in the first place?

  Kaisa went back up to her bedsit and dug out a pi
cture she had of Peter. She regretted she had no wedding photos of them together. In Finland, where they’d had the big wedding after the hasty registry office affair in Portsmouth, wedding photos were traditionally taken in a studio just before the ceremony. But Peter had said that was crazy; the groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress until she walked up the aisle. Instead, he wanted photos outside the church with all the guests and confetti flying above their heads. But the Finnish photographer wasn’t used to taking wedding photos in the open air, and the resulting portraits were dark and terrible. They’d decided not to develop many of the pictures, and had ended up just giving one to Peter’s parents and another to her mother and Sirkka. The photo of Peter that Kaisa kept in her purse was taken a few months before they were married. It showed him sitting on the casing of a submarine, wearing a white uniform shirt, with the cuffs rolled up, and resting his arms on his knees. Wearing a cap, he looked relaxed, with his head turned towards the camera, laughing at whoever was taking the photo. The sun was behind him, and in the background you could see the dockyard, with a large crane just to the left of Peter. Kaisa always wondered who had taken the picture, and who Peter had been smiling at? When she’d asked him he said he couldn’t remember.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Kaisa came into the office of Adam’s Apple early. She wanted to get a head start on the article she was preparing. She wasn’t yet as confident in her English as a native speaker would have been, so it took her a lot longer to write the pieces Rose was now asking her to produce for every issue. This one was about what it was like to come and live in the UK as a foreign woman. Kaisa had interviewed three different people for the piece. In Brixton, in a council flat that smelled of strange spices, she’d interviewed Suni, an Indian lady, who wore a colourful sari and offered her home-made almond sweets. A lady from Jamaica had come into the offices, and spoken so heartrendingly about her first weeks in Britain, nearly twenty years ago, that the whole office had been in tears. Apart from Jenny, who’d balled her hands into fists and said, ‘Those bastard skinheads, I could cut their fucking balls off.’ But to Kaisa the tragedy of her story was the reaction – or lack of it – of ordinary people in England.