The Good Heart Read online

  ‘A fine was good, right?’ she said and glanced at him.

  ‘Yeah, obviously the best thing is not to be court-martialled at all. It’ll be on my record forever,’ Peter said drily and watched the still, steel surface of the Gareloch. That should put a stop to her bloody optimism, he thought.

  His words had the desired effect, and shut Kaisa up. They drove the rest of the way in silence. Back at the married quarter, Kaisa went immediately upstairs. Peter could hear her crying in the bathroom. He slumped onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

  Three

  In the afternoon after the court martial, Peter had to do something to clear his mind. He decided to go and fetch his things from the base. As luck would have it, the first person he bumped into was his Captain. The old man called him into his office. ‘Peter, you’re a good young officer, who’s had a bit of bad luck. Just do a good job in your next appointment, and this will soon blow over, believe me.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir,’ Peter replied.

  ‘Now, there’s one more thing. Did you see the reporters in there?’

  Peter lifted his head, ‘Yes, I did. Lt Currie told me about them,’ he said simply. ‘And,’ Peter felt his voice falter, but paused trying to steady his nerves, ‘they took photos,’ He looked down at his polished boots and continued, ‘to show …’

  Peter couldn’t find the words, so the Captain came to his rescue, ‘Yes, I understand, to show a happily married couple.’

  Peter nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s what you two were, and I’m sure will be again.’ The Captain went on to tell him to expect some coverage in the local rag. ‘There will be something in the national press too,’ he said, taking hold of Peter’s arm. ‘Just hold firm, don’t make any comments. If you haven’t done so already, it might be best if you tell your family as soon as possible. And take your phone off the hook,’ he added.

  Peter went home. Kaisa was still upstairs; she had fallen asleep, fully clothed on their bed. Peter didn’t want to wake her, so he tiptoed downstairs and dialled the number of his parents’ house. It was the most difficult conversation he’d had in his life. His father was quiet, listening to Peter’s sorry tale, and when it was over there was a long silence at the end of the line.

  ‘Dad?’ Peter said, wondering if the old man had heard any of what Peter had told him.

  ‘I’ll get your mother,’ his father replied eventually, and Peter heard the phone being placed on the table. He imagined the tidy bungalow his parents lived in now that their three children had grown up and left home. He thought, again, how this scandal would affect the order of their lives. How would their large circle of friends, many of whom were ex-Navy or ex-Army and had fought in the Second World War, take the news? Would they be sympathetic, or would they talk behind his parents’ backs and shun their company? He remembered how thrilled his parents and the whole family had been when Peter graduated from Dartmouth Naval College. When the Queen herself attended the passing out parade, they were bursting with pride.

  The wait for his mother to come to the telephone felt like an age. He could hear her ask what was up, and the muffled reply from his father, which he couldn’t decipher.

  ‘Peter?’ his mother said, with a higher pitched voice than usual.

  ‘I’m sorry, mum,’ Peter said. He began telling her the whole story, about how Kaisa had been with a friend of his, Duncan, while he was on his first patrol.

  ‘He seemed such a nice young man,’ Peter’s mum interrupted, and Peter remembered the weekend during their time at Dartmouth when he’d invited Duncan to Wiltshire to stay with his parents. Peter tensed up and formed a fist with the hand not holding the receiver. ‘Well, he’s not.’

  At that moment, he heard a sniffle from the lounge, and saw Kaisa sitting on the sofa, her knees up to her chest, her body balled up tightly. Peter hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. She was crying hard now, and Peter wished he could go to her instead of having to finish the conversation with his mother.

  But Peter had to continue. He told his mother how he’d found out about the affair on his return, how the bastard had been at the base, talking to Kaisa at the swimming pool, how he hadn’t been able to control himself and how he had knocked Duncan into the water.

  ‘I was dismissed my ship,’ Peter was hanging his head, the shame of the court martial fully hitting home.

  ‘Oh, Petey,’ her mother used a nickname Peter hadn’t heard in years, not since he was a small boy. He suddenly yearned to see his mother, to be comforted by her.

  ‘It’ll probably be in the papers,’ Peter said instead, delivering the final blow.

  ‘Oh,’ was all his mother could say. ‘What do you mean, in the Wiltshire Times?’

  ‘Well, probably not, unless … it’ll be in the national ones, most probably.’

  ‘The Telegraph?’

  Peter sighed, ‘I don’t know mum. We’ll be down next week, if that’s OK?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Mum?’ Peter wondered if the line had gone dead.

  ‘Of course, we’d love to see you,’ his mother said.

  Peter asked her to pass on the news to his sister and brother, and hung up.

  * * *

  That evening, he and Kaisa sat in their cold house at Smuggler’s Way and drank half a bottle of vodka. Kaisa cried, on and off all night. Peter wished he could cry too, but he simply wasn’t able. All he wanted was to numb his senses. He couldn’t help Kaisa, couldn’t bring himself to comfort her.

  The next day the story appeared in the Telegraph, on page three, where the salacious stories were usually found. It felt unreal to see a picture of him and Kaisa, looking solemn but standing close to one another, printed there, with the headline, ‘Two Royal Navy Officers Fight Over Pretty Swedish Wife’. The article was short, but his head was pounding and he felt sick when he saw the words, ‘The actions of 24-year-old Lieutenant Peter Williams are believed to have been fuelled by jealousy, after it was revealed his wife, Kaisa Williams, also 24 and originally from Sweden, had been having an affair with a fellow Navy officer while Lt Williams was away at sea.’ In the Daily Mail Peter’s court martial and Kaisa’s affair with Duncan was a front page headline, ‘Two Royal Navy Officers Brawl In Pool Over Sexy Swedish Blonde’. But the Sun was the worst, ‘Bomber Boys Battle Over Bonking Blonde Bombshell’. Peter read the articles swiftly. The tabloids he merely scanned, but he read the Telegraph in full. It gave the verdict and even described Peter as ‘a brilliant young officer’ and reported on the ‘great interest shown in the case’ at the court martial.

  Peter put the papers in the bin. His head was hurting from the vodka. He found a packet of paracetamols above the sink and swallowed two with a glass of water, while surveying the grey mist over the Gareloch. When he turned around, Kaisa was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, silently watching him. She moved slowly to the bin and pulled out the papers.

  ‘Swedish!’ she said, and Peter, surprised at his own reaction, had to suppress a smile. He wanted to hug Kaisa, it was so typical that her incorrect nationality would be the one thing she commented on, but something stopped him. Examining the paper with her head bent, she looked so tired, her face drawn and the blonde hair hanging limp on her shoulders, that Peter felt a strong urge to protect her, to tell her everything would be alright, and that he loved her. But he couldn’t move, nor speak. He gazed at her, willing Kaisa to look up and say she was sorry. Instead, she put the papers back in the bin and, not looking at him, said, ‘I think I will go to Helsinki to see mum and Sirkka.’

  Four

  Helsinki, Finland

  They were sitting side by side at the end of the jetty, with their feet just touching the water. Peter had rolled his uniform trousers up and Kaisa was wearing a summery dress. The sun glittered on the surface of the lake. For once, it wasn’t raining. Peter turned his head towards Kaisa and took her hands between his. His dark eyes under his naval cap looked as sparkly as the surface of the water. Kaisa sighed wit
h happiness. She lifted her chin and moved her head closer to Peter’s. As his lips approached Kaisa’s, she opened her eyes and woke up with a start.

  It was dark, and the heavy, stuffy room was silent, apart from the gentle snoring of her sister, Sirkka. Kaisa turned over and tried to get back into the lovely, summery dream, but she was now wide awake, disturbed by the snoring, which was getting louder. She could have gone and adjusted her sister’s pillow, which is what she usually did if the snoring got too loud, but Sirkka was working an early shift at the Intercontinental Hotel on Mannerheim Street the next day, whereas Kaisa could lie in — or sleep all day if she wanted. She looked at the clock with the small reflective dots on the windowsill behind her and saw it was nearly 4 am. The events of the last few weeks flooded back to her, and she wanted to howl with misery. The shame of the fight between Peter and Duncan over her, and Peter’s immediate sacking from the bomber submarine, HMS Restless; the whispers and looks of the other Navy people, even from their so-called friends, in the shops in Helensburgh, when she and Peter had tried to live a normal life before his court martial; and Peter’s visible disappointment at the sudden nose dive his career had taken, made worse by its astronomical rise. His appointment to the Polaris submarine in Helensburgh just a few months after passing his nuclear qualification had been such a coup; he’d been one of the youngest officers of his rank — lieutenant — to be appointed to one of the subs that served as Britain’s nuclear deterrent. Not being able to take the covert hostility of her fellow Navy wives on the married quarter estate in Rhu, nor Peter’s growing indifference to her, Kaisa had decided to flee back to Finland the day after Peter’s court martial.

  Her mother and Sirkka had welcomed her with open arms. They had decided that she should stay with Sirkka in her one-bedroomed flat in Töölö to begin with. But during the past days Kaisa had detected a slight change in the way her mother treated her; her own failed marriage to Kaisa and Sirkka’s father had at least lasted nearly twenty years, whereas Kaisa’s relationship seemed to have broken down before she had even celebrated the first wedding anniversary. Of course, Pirjo hadn’t pointed this out yet — but Kaisa was sure it was only a matter of time.

  Kaisa had been in Helsinki for nearly a week now. She knew she had to forget the past — and Peter — and focus on the future. She couldn’t carry on living in her sister’s one-bedroom flat, and sleeping on her (admittedly quite comfortable) sofa bed forever. If she was to stay in Helsinki, she needed to find a job, somewhere to live on her own. She needed some purpose in her life. Unless of course, she decided to go back to Peter. They hadn’t discussed the future when Peter had dropped her off at the train station in Glasgow to take the train to Heathrow. Officially, she was taking a little break in Finland with her family. Or that was what they had told each other and their friends Pammy and Nigel.

  ‘Write to me when you get there, eh?’ Peter had said at the train station, and he had kissed Kaisa lightly on the lips.

  Kaisa had nodded, not being able to hold back the tears. They’d rolled down her face, smearing the mascara she’d put on that morning. But Peter hadn’t reacted, or wanted to see Kaisa’s tears. Unlike the many partings they’d had before they were married, when Kaisa was still a student in Helsinki and Peter was based in Portsmouth. Then Peter would always wipe, or kiss, Kaisa’s tears away, and as a parting gift he’d buy her a single red rose. Today Peter just looked away, with his hands in his pockets, indifferent to Kaisa’s emotions.

  ‘I’ll let you know when the new appointment comes through, and where I’ll be living,’ he’d said, glancing sideways at Kaisa. His eyes were narrow, and didn’t show any emotion when they briefly met hers. He looked quickly away again, towards the empty track, as if he was longing for the train to arrive, impatient to get rid of his troublesome wife. Kaisa knew all he wanted was to get back to work, to get back onboard a new submarine, to rebuild his career. She didn’t seem to feature in his plans for the future.

  At the chilly station, where they could hear the rain beating down on the Victorian tin roof, they’d stood facing each other, but Kaisa couldn’t bear to see the cold expression in her husband’s eyes, so she stared at his hands instead. There were a few hairs growing on them, and Kaisa had an overwhelming desire to stroke them and lace her fingers through Peter’s. She imagined that he’d look up, surprised, and that his eyes would light up at her touch, like they used to do. He’d pull her hand up to his lips and give her palm a gentle kiss. How she’d longed for him to say he loved her, but instead, when the train pulled into the station, screeching noisily, he’d said, ‘Do you want me to help you with the suitcase?’

  Kaisa had just shaken her head. She wanted to hold him, to tell him once more how much she loved him, but no words came out. She was so ashamed, and seeing him reminded her of that shame, and of the hurt she’d caused, not only to him, but to his career. Words, which Peter had uttered to her in the dead of night, a few days after the fight with Duncan at the Faslane base swimming pool, rang in her ears: ‘You’ve broken the two things that matter to me most in the whole world. My love for you and my Navy career.’ They were probably the most poignant, and perhaps the most honest, words her husband of only seven months had said to her during their marriage.

  Five

  In just a year, Tuuli had grown into a businesswoman. She swept into the café at the top of Stockmann’s Department store, wearing a brown woollen overcoat over a smart trouser suit and pointy flats. She still carried the briefcase the two of them had bought at the beginning of their four-year course at the Swedish School of Economics in Helsinki — or Hanken — as everyone called the low-slung university in northeastern Helsinki. Kaisa remembered that particular shopping trip with fondness; they’d ended up buying the exact same briefcase, in different colours. Kaisa’s was brown, whereas Tuuli had opted for black. In those early days of their studies at Hanken, they hadn’t realised how similar they looked; they both had fair hair, blue eyes and they were both tall — although Tuuli had at least ten centimetres on Kaisa. Everyone, from their fellow students to staff at the famous flirting place, the university’s library, mixed them up. Having similar briefcases didn’t help. But Hanken was a place where everyone knew everyone by sight at least, so people soon got used to Kaisa and Tuuli looking the same, though some still thought them to be cousins or even sisters when they graduated.

  ‘How are you?’ Tuuli said as they sat down with their coffees and cinnamon buns from the self-service counter. There was concern in her eyes and Kaisa had to take a deep intake of breath in order to stop the tears.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said instead. A few days after the incident in the pool, Kaisa had written a long letter to Tuuli from Helensburgh, recounting the sorry tale of her unfaithfulness, the fight between Duncan and Peter, and Peter’s impending court martial. The letter Kaisa had received in reply was so supportive and kind that Kaisa had cried, and it had played a large part in her decision to ‘take a break’ in Helsinki. The fact that both Peter and Kaisa had decided on a one-way ticket, bought over the telephone from a bucket flight shop in London, spoke volumes about how long this ‘break’ in the marriage might last.

  ‘You need to come out with me,’ Tuuli said after she’d heard about Kaisa’s living arrangements with her sister in Töölö. Sirkka and her mother rented two flats in the same post-war, stone-clad block on Linnankoskenkatu. Both flats had only one bedroom, with a small lounge and a narrow kitchen at the side, but they were in the city, within easy distance from the centre of Helsinki. Sirkka’s flat overlooked a busy crossing, while her mother’s flat on the floor above had a view of the peaceful inner courtyard. The two women often shared an evening meal together and went walking in the nearby park or, in winter, skiing on the frozen sea near the shores of the president’s summer villa. It wasn’t a bad place to be based, and Kaisa was grateful to have somewhere to live.

  ‘That’ll be fun. Where do you want to go, the KY club?’ she said to Tuuli, without much ent
husiasm.

  Her friend laughed. ‘God, no. Haven’t been there for ages. That place is for the kids. No, we’ll go to a couple of new bars. Unless you want to go to Old Baker’s?’ Tuuli reached her hand out and squeezed Kaisa’s arm.

  Kaisa shook her head. The two young women were quiet for a moment as they reflected on the first time Peter had come to see Kaisa in Helsinki, six months after they’d met at the British Embassy cocktail party. Peter had been a young naval officer, and had come to talk to them at the party, just as Kaisa and Tuuli were about to leave. On Peter’s second visit to Helsinki, after they’d exchanged increasingly passionate letters, Kaisa had taken him to Old Baker’s on Mannerheim Street. The place boasted of being an ‘English pub’, but Peter had been refused entry because he was wearing a pair of cords — deemed to be ‘jeans’ by the bouncer. ‘Sorry, you need to be smartly dressed to come in,’ the bearded man with a huge belly and a gruff voice had told Peter. He’d had his hand on Peter’s chest and spoke to him in loud Finnish. Peter had turned to Kaisa and Tuuli for an explanation. Kaisa vividly remembered Peter’s disdain at being told he — an Englishman, and an officer of her Majesty’s Royal Navy — wasn’t smart enough to gain entry to a place calling itself an English pub. Kaisa and Peter later suspected the bouncer had simply not liked the look of the dark-haired foreigner. It was the first of many times Peter had been publicly singled out for being a stranger with a Finnish girl. Kaisa and Peter had mostly laughed at the prejudice, but on that first time, it had hurt Peter deeply. Kaisa now reflected on her own unhappiness in England and in Scotland, where she’d constantly felt discriminated against — whether it was in the workplace or among her fellow Navy wives. She now wondered what would have happened if the tables had been turned and Peter had moved to Finland to be with her. Would he have had an equally tough time of it? Or worse? And how would he have reacted? Kaisa looked at Tuuli. She knew that sleeping with a friend of hers would be the last thing Peter would do. Guilt, which wracked her every moment, raised its ugly head again, and for a second, she wished she’d never gone to the Embassy cocktail party, and never met the handsome Englishman.