How I came to be in England – Part 32

The rest of the summer of 1983 in Helsinki was glorious. But the weather didn’t suit my mood. If it hadn’t been for my good friend at the Swedish School of Economics, I don’t know how I would have survived the latter part of that year. By the end of July she’d finished her finals and submitted her thesis, which she’d written in record time. Now she was ready to party. So party we did. During the day I worked at the bank and at night we were out in the university disco, or in the Helsinki Club, or a favourite summer place called the Pikku Parlamentti. It was near the Finnish Parliament and only open in the summer. With some tables outside and sliding glass doors facing the park which sloped into the sea, it was a perfect place to celebrate a graduation. There, and elsewhere, we often bumped into the old gang of year four boys, and sometimes even exchanged a few words. Who spoke with whom didn’t seem to matter so much anymore, although, unlike my friend I’d still have to see everybody at the University in the autumn. I had a few exams to take as I’d lost time with the change of subjects in my second year, and hadn’t even decided what the title of my thesis would be.

As usual it all depended on the Englishman.

The ‘If we can marry I can have a work permit move to England, but if we can’t what then?’-question was always on my mind. When the Englishman phoned, which he did at least twice a week, we skirted around the issue. First when I’d returned from England, I’d asked him every time if he’d heard from the Appointer. But when after a few times the reply was a short ‘No’ I didn’t ask anymore. The Englishman was in the middle of a tough course and he too had exams to study for. He told me it was very important for his career to do well in the course. So I let him be.

Still he kept telling me how much he missed me and loved me. How much he longed for the day I moved to England. We speculated whether I might get a work permit through a job in the bank I’d been a summer intern for in Helsinki. My bank manager had told me they were opening a Commercial branch in London. He’d even organised an interview for me with the man heading the new venture. But there seemed to be no word from the Navy. Whether they’d allow the marriage to a girl from a country so near the Eastern Block, or whether it would prove too much of a security risk to an English Naval Officer. It was as if my life was hanging in the balance. I couldn’t even decide which subject to write about for my thesis. I had three choices. The one I wanted to do was about British party politics. But for this I needed to do the research in England. Handy if I was living there, impossible if it all fell through.

As the nights drew in and Helsinki descended into its annual depressive winter hibernation, I returned to lectures at the School of Economics. By September there was still no word from the Navy.

My professor was pressing me on a decision on my thesis, but I stalled.

In November the Englishman called, ‘I have Christmas and New Year off!’

‘Oh.’

‘Can I come over to see you?’

I spoke to my Father the next day. ‘Christmas? Here?’

‘Yes, I thought we’d…’

‘No, I’m not having any guests here. Christmas is a commercial invention anyway, for shops to sell more stuff.’

He’d been in an unusually bad mood for weeks. I guessed he’d had a fight with his girlfriend because he spent all his evenings and nights at home, monopolising the TV and complaining if I watched anything after he’d gone to bed.

I looked at him. I wanted to say, ‘What about me?’ or ‘Please can we have a family Christmas here, just like we did when I was little?’ but I didn’t. What if he sneered at me or worse, started to complain about my mother. Tell me some story or other how awful Christmas was with her. I wanted to hold onto my childhood memories.

I spoke to my mother instead. She was delighted and said it’d be a special Christmas with the Englishman there.

There was no snow in Helsinki when the Englishman’s plane landed on the Saturday before Christmas. The city looked grey with the lights over Alexi reflecting on the black pavements instead of the sparkly whiteness of snow. I took the bus to the airport and prayed the weather would turn colder. The Englishman had two weeks off and flew to see me first in Helsinki. The plan was then to fly together over to Stockholm for the holidays and back again to spend New Year with my friends in Helsinki. When I saw him through the glass at the arrivals hall, giving me a shy wave and rushing towards me with a bag over his shoulder, I didn’t give a thought to the distant future. The next fourteen days were all that mattered.

My father was waiting in the kitchen when we arrived. In front of him was half-full bottle of Koskenkorva and an empty tumbler. He shook the Englishman’s hand and took another glass out of the drying cupboard. With a nod to the Englishman he filled the two glasses up to the brim and lifted one to his lips. The Englishman looked at me, winked and emptied his glass. He made only a slight sound as the strong vodka flowed down his throat.

‘We’re going out tonight,’ I lied and took the Englishman’s hand. The Englishman coughed.

‘Even more reason to start the evening off with style,’ my father said and poured another round. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was just past four o’clock in the afternoon.

‘It’s alright,’ the Englishman said and lifted the second glassful to his lips.

‘C’mon we have to go,’ I said.

My father looked up. ‘It’s alright, you don’t have to go. I’m off to Lapland today.’

‘What?’

‘I won’t see you until next year,’ he said and took a wad of 100 mark notes out of his wallet. Have a few drinks on me, or even a meal.’ He laughed, hugged me and shook the Englishman’s hand.

When the door shut behind my father I shook my head. ‘He didn’t tell me he was away for Christmas. They must have made up and are going up to see the girlfriend’s family in Northern Finland.’

The Englishman came to sit next to me at the kitchen table. His eyes looked cloudy. He kissed me and said, ‘Can we go to bed now?’

We woke late the next morning, the 21st of December 1983.