‘Really?’ Mr Linnonmaa was quiet for a moment. ‘Hmm,’ he said and again paused. ‘Don’t worry Pia, he won’t bother you anymore.’
‘But he said he was going to watch me!’
‘Will they come back?’ Anni asked.
‘No.’ Mr Linnonmaa said.
‘But now you must call your mother, and then tomorrow you two,’ he nodded to Anni, ‘will go back to school. It is past eight o’clock already, your mother must be home from work? And remember, you mustn’t talk about this to anyone, particularly not to your mother’s boyfriend, Pia.’
‘Why?’
‘Well. Let’s just say he doesn’t really need to know. The KGB is allergic to the British security forces.’
Pia was stunned into silence, British security forces?
Anni’s father added, ‘I’m going to telephone your mother and say you had some kind of accident outside. Then I’m going to walk you home.’
‘She’s going to go crazy. She’s got it into her head that I’m on drugs!’ Pia said. She was surprised how she just blurted it out.
Anni let out a cry, ‘What? But we don’t touch that stuff!’
‘No, I know, but try telling her.’ It was all too much for Pia and she started to cry. Anni came over and put her arms around Pia. ‘It’s OK, my dad will fix it. Won’t you?’ she said turning around to look at Mr Linnonmaa. He didn’t say anything for a while. He sat down again and drummed the table with his fingers, ‘Why does she think you’re taking drugs?’
Pia had stopped crying. She thought of what Mr Linnonmaa had said about Iain being one of ‘the British security forces’. She wondered if she should tell Mr Linnonmaa how the Admiral seemed to have lied to her mother about the drugs. But, her mother might have completely got it wrong. She decided she’d better not say anything until she’d had a chance to talk to the Admiral.
‘Oh, you know, she saw some TV programme,’ Pia said.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Mr Linnonmaa said and smiled.
Before she opened the door to her flat, Pia took a deep breath. Her gloves covered the marks on her wrists, but Pia knew her face must be red from the slap and puffy from the crying. All her make-up was gone. Pia had cleaned off the last traces in Anni’s bathroom. Her mother was sure to notice something was different about her. Her changed appearance would only fuel her mother’s belief about the drugs.
‘Darling, at last you’re home!’ Pia’s mother took Pia into her arms and hugged her hard. ‘Mr Linnonmaa phoned and explained everything. And,’ she took Pia’s cheeks between her hands and looked her deep into her eyes, ‘you needn’t feel ashamed!’
Pia took her coat off while her mother whizzed off to the kitchen. She was wearing her blue dressing gown and had rollers in her hair.
‘I’m making hot chocolate for you, just like in the old days when you came in from playing in the snow. Then I’ll have a look at those hands of yours. Are you bruised anywhere else? I can rub some cream on if you want. Mr Linnonmaa told me all about your accident,’ she shouted from the kitchen.
What on earth had Anni’s father told her mother? That they’d been playing outside in the snow after school? As if they were kids! Pia shrugged and suddenly felt very tired. At least she didn’t have to lie, Pia thought, and flung herself onto her bed.
9
Iain took the overnight ferry to Stockholm. The Colonel had said, ‘MI6’s budgets are atrocious, so flying is out of the question, I’m afraid’. The argument Iain had put forward for needing to be in Helsinki to keep an eye on Pia or Kovtun had fallen on deaf ears, as had the complaint about losing too much time during HMS Newcastle’s visit.
‘We’ve got a week here, we can spare you for a couple of days.’ Iain couldn’t argue. He didn’t know how many other people were on the case. That was something the Colonel had said was best for him not to be worried about. He booked a cabin and paid the extra for a two-berth to himself. The department would have to understand that he wasn’t going to travel like a bum.
The day was cold but sunny. By five thirty in the afternoon the sun had long disappeared below the horizon and the huge Silja Line ferry shimmered against the white ice-covered sea and the black sky beyond.
Inside the plush ferry, a pink-coated hostess showed him to the sparse cabin, while looking him up and down.
‘Have a good trip,’ she said unsmiling. The grey roots of her jet-black hair and her unpleasant body odour made Iain shiver as she let him pass through the heavy door. Iain put his small holdall down and took out the piece of paper on which he had jotted the name of the Stockholm police sergeant. Johan Karlsson had sounded almost unfriendly on the telephone, but that might have been his limited command of English. Iain hoped it would be sufficient to translate the file he’d mentioned. But those were tomorrow’s worries. Tonight he’d relax. Have a good meal at the famed smorgasbord, a few drinks at the bar, even a Finnish tango in the nightclub.
Iain first noticed the woman in the duty-free shop. Her lips were painted bright pink, which suited her pale colouring. She was quite short, but slim, with small features and fragile-looking bones. Iain guessed her age to be around thirty, perhaps younger. Her large eyes were lined with black make-up and she looked a little tired. She was oddly attractive to Iain, who didn’t usually like short women. She bought her full quota of drink. She filled two bags with vodka, wine and a few beers and carried her heavy shopping with difficulty. Iain wondered if it was too forward to offer to help, when she turned into a corridor and descended the stairs into the cheaper cabins.
Iain only went to the duty-free to see what was on offer. And to pass the time. Maija had told her that the prices were amazing. Shame he couldn’t tell her he was finally taking the ferry to Stockholm. She’d told him several times how pleasant the trip was, how good the food, how cheap the drinks.
When Iain walked into the nightclub he saw her again. She’d changed into a black floaty dress and high-heeled boots. The outfit suited her. The boots were shiny and made Iain feel a small twinge in his groin. She was sitting at a table alone, surveying the couples gliding on the tiny dance floor. Her legs were crossed and she was swinging the top one to the rhythm of the fast Finnish dance, humppa, the band was playing. A disco ball above the dance floor threw blotchy lights around the room.
‘Would you like to dance?’
She lifted her head in surprise. Though Iain crossed the dance floor slowly, he’d obviously not made much of an impression on her. He’d made a mistake. He lowered his hand and straightened his back, ready to turn around and lessen the humiliation of her refusal.
‘Oh.’ She reached her hand out and touched his. Her small hands were surprisingly strong.
She was a good dancer. By the time they’d reached the floor, a new slower tune was playing. A version of Blue Moon. She asked where Iain was from, and he told her London, to make it simpler. He told her his ex-wife was Finnish and that he was on a business trip. Luckily she didn’t ask many questions. He wasn’t keen on a complicated discussion. They moved around the floor in silence. The feel of her body made him want to take her to his cabin straightaway. The way she’d let him hold her close made him hopeful. But he decided to wait. After three songs he took her back to the table and asked if he could join her. She nodded and smiled into his eyes. They had a few drinks and danced two or three more times.
Kerttu was from Eastern Finland, but because there was no work there she had followed an uncle to Stockholm. She’d been in Sweden for only a year, but already she was earning more than she would have done in Finland. She told Iain she struggled with the language. He didn’t ask what kind of work she did in Stockholm.